Issues
by jamie2109
Summary: COMPLETE HarryDraco. In the aftermath of the final battle, Harry spots Draco amongst the captured Death Eaters, and wants some questions answered. The answers set him on a path full of danger and intrigue, and the blossoming of a new love.
1. Issues of Victory

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.

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Chapter One: Issues of Victory. 

And just like that it was over.

Harry lay curled up on the hard stone floor of the castle keep, rigid and unmoving apart from the faint trembling that proved he was still alive. Parts of his body screamed in agony, but he refused to give in to it and cry out, until someone touched his shoulder and called his name. Then he jerked reflexively and his body twisted in a final spasm of pain that pulled a low moan from deep in his throat.

"Harry," the voice persisted. Ron. Oh thank God, Ron was still alive; he'd finished it in time after all. Slowly, his eyes opened and he looked up at his friend, blinking in the harsh sunlight, so bright after the darkness behind his closed lids.

"Can you sit up mate? Here…" Ron's strong arms pulled him into a sitting position and he groaned and rested heavily against the wall, eventually sagging sideways to lean on his friend's shoulder.

"Is he gone?" Harry's voice was a croak and he coughed, then winced and closed his eyes as the pain shot through him again. He might have a few broken ribs, he thought. Small price to pay, when so many others were dead.

"You did it Harry! He's not coming back this time." There was a trace of disbelief in Ron's tone. Harry couldn't quite believe it either, but if squinting around the keep and seeing Snape's crumpled body didn't convince him, the sight of Aurors disarming surrendering Death Eaters did.

"It's finally over then." Relief, pain, awe, disbelief and shock all gathered their forces in his battered body, and tears that he never thought he could cry, stung his eyes. All those dead, all those that he had loved and tried to care for and had failed, hadn't died in vain after all. He blinked rapidly as he realised that there was no one he would rather share this moment with than Ron. Right from his very first day at Hogwarts, Ron had been by his side; it was right and fitting that he be here now.

As Ron nodded beside him, they both looked around at the scene through jaded eyes. Both had seen too much blood and death in this war. It was quiet, there were no celebrations; too many had died for that yet. Just the faint murmur of Aurors directing the prisoners to a corner of the warded keep, and the faint cries of a woman in grief in the castle grounds somewhere.

"You need anything, mate?" Ron asked quietly. Harry shook his head.

"No, not yet. I'll have to get these ribs seen to, but they can wait, I just want to sit here for a bit."

In silent understanding they fell into a comfortable silence and watched. Occasionally, a Healer would come and ask if they needed anything, but they waved them off and were soon left alone entirely. Savouring a new-found peace, thinking about the future – realising that he actually had a chance at a future now, Harry suddenly found himself at a loss. What was he to do with himself now his job was done? The Ministry and the Aurors could clear up the rest; he assumed that they could manage that much on their own. They'd never had much time for him anyway; they wouldn't miss him now.

From time to time, tired Aurors led more Death Eaters to the top of the keep and deposited them with the growing number of prisoners. Everything was subdued, everyone was tired and grey and sick of war; thankful it was over and now preparing for the long recovery. It was a sobering thought. So much to repair, so many to grieve over, so much to rebuild, and Harry wondered if the Wizarding world would ever really recover.

Shifting slowly to avoid aggravating his ribs, he turned to face Ron. "Nothing will ever be the same will it?" A laugh rang out across the keep before Ron could reply, and they turned to see both of the twins trying to get through the narrow door at the same time. Trust Fred and George to make one smile with their antics. The two scrabbled, pushed and retreated before the faint amused voices of them both carried to Harry's ears.

"After you, my good sir," said George, with a flourish of his hand and a deep bow.

"Why, thank you," replied Fred, and strode regally through the doorway, spotting Harry and Ron leaning up against the wall. "Brother dear, I do believe that is the boy wonder and his faithful sidekick sitting all alone over there."

"I think you may be right Fred. They look to have their gloomy faces on." George came up beside Fred, and smiled.

"We can't have that, George."

"No, we cannot. They cannot simply sit around lollygagging while everyone else does the cleaning up."

"They need to make themselves useful," agreed Fred, taking a small brown parcel from his robe pocket as they made their way over to Harry and Ron. "I have just the thing, too. Remember we need someone to test the new Weasley's Wizard Wheels…"

Harry had a ridiculous grin on his face now, but he couldn't move if his life was in danger, which it quite possibly was if the new Wheels hadn't even been tested yet. "You two stay away from me," he joked, voice still raw and throaty. "I've just bloody well saved the whole world, I am not going to be turned into a toad. Least not until my ribs are fixed anyway."

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Fred shook his head.

"Do you honestly think that we would…"

"Use the hero of the wizarding world like that?" finished Fred, smiling and sliding his eyes over to Ron. "Youngest brother here is a different pot of haddock though."

Harry laughed, immediately regretting it and lapsing into a weak coughing fit, as a sharp pain lanced his chest once more. Damn, he really needed to see a Healer. Quickly, Ron was on his feet, the smile gone from his pale, tired face.

"Come on Harry, I've had enough of this, you need to get those looked at now. George, help me get him to his feet." The twins responded, serious now, moving to help Ron get his arms under Harry's and lift him to his feet. With George on one side and Ron on the other, they made their way slowly towards the Healer's station. Harry discovered with an acute twist of pain as he stood, that his ankle was sprained, or possibly broken, and so their progress was slowed even further.

It began as the odd hushed greeting, as Harry and the Weasley boys, men now, limped across the square - a respectful 'well done Harry' or 'thank you' from those they passed, but there were now hundreds of people lining the walls of the keep, the majority of the Death Eaters having been captured. Harry thanked them with a smile, and then someone began to clap, and one by one they all took up the tribute. It rippled across the windswept keep until a groundswell of applause and cheers, happy faces, some with tears, accompanied them.

He tried to care that he was the centre of attention; he'd always hated that part of his life, but he was just too sore and tired and relieved that it was all over to worry. Acknowledging them all with a smile, his attention was drawn to the Death Eaters in the corner, some of whom were also smiling and clapping. He didn't think that would get them very far if mercy was what they were hoping to achieve, but he almost wished that it would. Voldemort was gone and the war was over and peace had to start somewhere.

Standing apart from the rest, Harry saw a familiar blond head. Malfoy. He was unmasked, as all the Death Eaters had been upon capture, and the hood of his robes was pushed back ensuring that he was easily identified. He looked exhausted, not much different from the last time he had seen him, actually, although he was dirtier, thinner, and the dark circles under his eyes were more prominent. Perhaps he was trying to be noticed, perhaps the others were shunning him or perhaps he was distancing himself from them. Whatever it was, Malfoy was watching him with a look on his face that Harry had never seen directed at him before. Pride.

In a second he made up his mind, and he turned to Fred.

"Fred, do me a favour will you? Go tell whoever is in charge of the prisoners that I want Malfoy kept separately from the others. Isolate him in one of the Ministry cells and let no one talk to him."

Fred looked at him in surprise, as did Ron and George. "Are you sure you want to do that, Harry?" he asked, his gaze sliding across to the blond.

"Are you out of your mind, Harry?" Ron exploded next to him. "You don't need this crap, stay as far away from him as you can. Let Azkaban have him."

"I need to know his story, Ron. For my own peace of mind. I can handle him, I can take care of myself."

"I know…it's just…it's Malfoy, Harry!"

"Yes, Ron, I know who he is and what. But you didn't see him the night that Dumbledore died… you weren't there. I need him to answer some questions."

"Alright," replied Ron, looking doubtful. "Just don't get taken in by his lies."

Harry sighed, and the intake of breath made his chest hurt once more, and a frown of pain crossed his face. "I'm not going to fall for anything. Trust me."

Fred left them at the Healer's station and went to find the Auror in charge while Ron and George helped Harry onto a blanket on the ground, calling for a Healer.

"I hope you know what you're doing Harry," Ron finished.


	2. Issues of Recovery

**A/N:** Thanks to those reviewers for the lovely reviews. I hope that you all enjoy this next chapter. I currently have nine chapters finalised and envision that there will be aproximately twenty or so.

Enjoy.

Jamie

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Issues of Recovery. 

When Harry awoke, it was to muted voices in the corridor outside his room in St. Mungo's. He couldn't make out the words, just the deep timbre of a male voice and the light laughter of a female. That laugh he did recognise, though he had not heard it in quite a while, and he smiled and tried unsuccessfully to catch what Hermione was saying.

Longing to see her, he stretched across to the bedside table and pushed the buzzer to alert the staff that he was awake. Immediately, the door opened and Hermione rushed in and threw herself into Harry's arms, hugging him fiercely for a second before gasping and pulling back with a rueful look on her face.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. Do your ribs still hurt?" Fortunately, his ribs were healed. The bruising that covered most of his torso was still there, however, and was still tender. But he cared little about that and shook his head, smiling.

"No, they're fine Hermione," he replied, letting her go and looking over her shoulder at the tall redhead who had entered after her. A broad smile broke out on his face to see Ron here too.

"Ron," Harry stuck out his hand and pulled Ron into a gruff hug as Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed and made herself comfortable.

"You look a sight better than the last time I saw you," Ron said, eyes crinkled in a smile.

"Don't tell Fred and George that, or they'll hound me with those Wheel things again," Harry laughed. "What are they supposed to do anyway?"

Ron shrugged and sat down next to Hermione, draping his arm across her shoulders, "I have no idea, they won't tell me. They say that if I know what they do, they won't work. Think I'd rather steer clear of those two altogether."

"Right. Good idea." Harry looked at both of them happily, catching the subtle hints of their intimacy in how Hermione leant into him and seemed to fit perfectly under his arm. It made him long for someone of his own. Perhaps now that the war was over and there was a chance he could have a life of his own, he and Ginny could rekindle their abortive attempt at a relationship. That lit a deep glow within him.

Hermione's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Harry, you used the spell didn't you? I knew it would work. I knew that Snape wasn't really working for Voldemort!" Harry nodded, frowning.

"Yes, in the end there was no choice but to trust that the spell was the right one. By the time we destroyed the last Horcrux, what was left of Voldemort was rabid and it was kinder to put him out of his misery really. There was nothing human left."

They all sat there in silence for a moment, not in tribute to Voldemort, but in remembrance of the Professor they had all loathed growing up. A hated fixture in their lives for six years, Snape had fled to his master's side during what would have been their seventh year, and became openly what it appeared he had been in secret for years - a part of Voldemort's Inner circle. It had taken Harry, Ron and Hermione that year to track down and destroy the four remaining Horcruxes. Now, this unlikely hero, the man who had provided the last missing piece and enabled Harry to defeat Voldemort for good, was dead. Traitor or spy, Harry had mixed feelings about the man now.

"When can you leave here, Harry?" Hermione asked quietly, bringing him from his thoughts.

"This afternoon, they said. The ankle needs time to mend properly, and –" He was cut off by the sound of popping from the corridor, and then Fred, George and Ginny dashed into the room, closing the door quickly behind them.

"What have you two done now?" Harry asked, grinning at all of them, face softening into tenderness when he looked at Ginny.

"Don't look at us," George pretended innocence.

"Our dear sister is the one you need to blame this on," continued Fred, coming to the bed and shaking Harry's hand.

"And people call _us_ troublemakers…" George joined Fred in shaking Harry's hand.

"What happened?" Hermione had a slight frown on her face.

"Oh, don't listen to those two," Ginny waved her hands at both the twins as she hugged Harry. "It was just a small diversion. The nurse wasn't going to let us in to see you, silly old bat. I just… redirected her attention, that's all." Harry watched her with a smile as she sat down on the chair next to the bed. She looked nervous, distracted for some reason and he wanted to ask her what was wrong.

The six of them chatted amiably about inconsequential things for a while, unwilling to discuss anything serious just yet, and really, who could be too serious when the twins were around? They were planning on expanding their joke shop business and were testing a number of new products, but they still refused to divulge the purpose of the Weasley's Wizarding Wheels. One day when Harry was feeling reckless enough, he would give in and try those wheels. The twins ran a joke shop after all, any effects were bound to be temporary, and there was time in his life now for fun.

Harry lay back on the bed and watched them all laughing and joking with each other. Even Hermione had relaxed and was looking to enjoy herself. She deserved it, he thought. Hermione, more than any of them, deserved some space to be happy. Driving herself beyond endurance, Hermione had been the one to do the research and track down the Horcruxes. Now, there was time for her and Ron.

Ron, who was his right hand; Ron, who trusted and believed in Harry, when his doubts threatened to overtake him. His simple assertions that he was sure Harry knew what he was doing, and his insightful off the cuff suggestions had made Harry think he was some sort of seer at times, and bolstered him when he needed it most.

Family. These people were his family and that gave him great joy and satisfaction. Along with the rest of the Weasleys and Remus and Tonks of course, in these people he had found the home and the love of family he had been searching for all his life. Only Sirius being there would have made it any better. He sighed at the familiar twinge of sadness when he thought of his godfather, and took Ginny's hand to comfort himself.

It seemed to be the signal for them all to stop talking.

"Have we tired you out, Harry?"

"No, Ginny, I was just thinking about Sirius." Funny, how he could talk about it now and it didn't make him want to yell and lash out at something.

"He would have been proud of you, you know that," Hermione added and Harry nodded, smiling sadly.

"I know. But now, we look to the future, right?" he asserted, giving Ginny's hand a squeeze, but catching a tiny frown on her face. "Tell me what's happening out there." He gave a wave of his free hand to indicate the rest of the world outside his hospital room.

"You're a hero, Harry,"" laughed Fred and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Quite the hero," added George. "It's in all the papers."

"You'll never be able to walk down the street again…"

"Without being mobbed…"

"Or propositioned…"

"Or…"

"Enough already. I get the picture," interrupted Harry. It was hard work keeping up with the twins once they got going, but what they said agitated him. It was never going to end was it? A normal life was never going to be his. He might have to become a recluse before he'd get any peace. Not a nice thought.

"Scrimgeour isn't happy with you though," Ron said. "Something to do with the fact that you have Malfoy stashed away in a Ministry holding cell, getting special treatment."

"So, he's still there then?"

Ron nodded. "But they don't like it. It's only because it's you requested it that he's there; else he would be dumped in with the rest of the Death Eater trash in Azkaban. Where he belongs, Harry!" he added, giving Harry an intense look.

"Yeah, he probably does, but before he goes there and I lose access to him, I want to ask him some questions." Harry looked round at their doubting faces exasperated. "Look, none of you were there the night Snape killed Dumbledore. You didn't see what I saw, so just leave it alright! I'm not looking for ways to…I'm just looking for some answers."

And he was, just looking for answers. What he'd seen that night in the Astronomy Tower and what he'd heard there made him doubt most of what he knew of Malfoy. Put that with the crying, terrified boy he'd found in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and Harry had real questions that needed answering. He still felt extreme guilt over using that stupid spell on Malfoy, even though he had been defending against a Crucio. Still, Harry wondered if he would have felt the curse Malfoy had thrown at him. Lestrange had said that you have to mean it, really mean it for it to work. Perhaps he was looking for confirmation that Malfoy had really intended the Crucio to work, or perhaps he was just looking for a way to assuage his own guilt.

"Alright, Harry, but you have to admit to being obsessed with Malfoy back in Hogwarts, especially last year. We're just worried about you."

"I think I can handle Malfoy, Hermione." To Ron, he said, "Tell Scrimgeour that I will be in to see Malfoy this afternoon, when I get out of here. I'll get my answers and then Azkaban can have him."

"Okay, I'll go and do that now. We should be going anyway. Let you get some rest."

It was the cue for them all to prepare to leave.

"Yes, we can't have the hero looking anything less than his best…" Fred quipped.

"For his adoring public," George added, turning up his nose. "You're a celebrity now, you have responsibilities."

"Get out of here you lot," Harry laughed, shooing them all out, but hanging onto Ginny's hand preventing her from leaving, which didn't go unnoticed by the rest of them.

Hermione leaned over to hug Harry. "We'll give you two some private time then."

Ron dropped his large hand on Harry's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "Come home to the Burrow when you're done with Malfoy. Mum and Dad and the rest are so anxious to see you."

"I will, thanks." Harry smiled and waved them all out, laughing at the cross voice of the nurse when she realised that they had all been in Harry's room. When they had gone, he turned to Ginny and smiled.

"I have to go too, Harry." Ginny spoke quietly.

"Can't you stay for a bit? I wanted to talk about…" but he was stopped by the look of pain on her face. "Ginny, what's wrong?"

"I have to go, Harry. Dean needs me." She was biting her lip, searching his face as if hoping that he would get her meaning, and with a sinking feeling in his gut, he did.

"Why?" he whispered, not really wanting to know the answer.

"In the last battle, while you were destroying Voldemort, Fenrir got him. Just like Bill." And Ginny broke down sobbing. "It's not fair, Harry. First Bill, and now Dean. He's… he's…" she took great gulping breaths, trying to calm, herself. "He's not as bad as Bill, but…oh, Harry, he needs me and…and I still love him. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Ginny, don't worry. How is he?" Inside he was shocked that something so horrible had happened to Dean and concerned about him. He would make the point of going to see him as soon as he could. At the same time, he raged against his life. Why couldn't he have just one thing for himself? Why was there always duty and responsibility and doing what was fucking expected of him all the damned time? Why couldn't he be selfish for just once in his life and fight for her? Inwardly he heaved a sigh. Because she said she still loved Dean, and fighting for her would only hurt what could be a wonderful friendship.

"He's not coping very well. I'm going to get Bill to come in and see him." She was sniffing and wiping her nose on a handkerchief. He sighed, his compassion for her an ache in his chest.

"Oh, Ginny, come here." He took her into his arms and hugged her tightly, talking softly to her, telling her that everything would be alright, and mourning the dying of his first love.


	3. Issues of Escape

A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed that last two chapters, I hope you all enjoy this one, too.

jamie

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Chapter 3: Issues of Escape. 

The nurse on call took one final look at his ankle and pressed around his rib cage, which tickled more than causing him any pain, before telling him to dress.

"You're as good as new, Mr. Potter. You can leave whenever you are ready."

"Thanks. But, please, call me Harry. I'm just plain Harry," he smiled at her as he pulled down his t-shirt. The nurse blushed and looked away, making a point of pretending to straighten the sheets, even though Harry was going to get out of the bed.

"Oh…uh…alright then. Harry."

"Would you mind passing my shoes, they're just behind you under the chair?" Harry asked, just wanting to go now, not oblivious to the plucking of her fingers at the sheets, and uncomfortable with the attention.

"Of course," she replied immediately, and bent to retrieve them.

Harry took the opportunity to toss back the sheets and swing his legs over the side of the bed. Quickly he grabbed his jeans and jumped off the bed, pulling them on. He had just about got them done up, but was at least decent, when she turned and passed his trainers to him.

"Thank you," he said, taking them from her and sitting on the chair beside the bed to put them on.

As he was tying the last lace, there was a commotion at the door. He looked up with a frown and saw Minister Scrimgeour backing through the door, holding up his hands and smiling. There were loud voices calling questions and the clicking of cameras and Harry groaned. He just wanted to get out of here, go and see Dean and then be on his way to the Ministry to get this thing with Malfoy done. Maybe then he'd have some closure and be able to have a normal life.

He and the Ministry had rarely seen eye to eye. He didn't trust them after Fudge had not believed him that Voldemort had returned, and nothing had changed since Scrimgeour had taken over. Harry grudgingly admitted that this new Minister had done a better job than Fudge, however the lack of support for the Order when Harry and his friends were researching and searching for the Horcruxes was disappointing. It did not dispose Harry towards feeling that he owed the Ministry anything at this point. He held his tongue though for the moment; they held Malfoy.

The doors closed and the room quieted without the ruckus of what Harry assumed were reporters camped outside his room, or following the Minister around. He hoped they were following the Minister anyway. The last thing he wanted was to be hounded by reporters. He had done his job, they could all leave him alone now thank you very much.

"Harry, Harry, my boy, wonderful to see you up and about." Scrimgeour advanced towards him with his arms out, ready to shake Harry's hand, and pat him on the shoulder at the same time.

Tentatively, Harry took the hand and suffered the thumping on his back. "Minister."

"Congratulations, Harry, I knew you could do it!" continued Scrimgeour still pumping Harry's hand and pounding him on the back. Harry coughed and tried to let go of the hand.

"What are you doing here, Minister?" Politicians and their bluff and bluster, Harry huffed.

"Came to congratulate you didn't I? Heard you were being released today and I thought I'd give our hero a fitting discharge." Harry snorted. More like Scrimgeour wanted Harry to be the poster boy for the Ministry just like he had done two years ago. That was just not on as far as Harry was concerned. The Ministry could take as much of the credit as they wanted, he didn't care, but he was not going to confirm or imply that he had worked with them. Not bloody likely.

"Why?'

"People want to see you Harry. You defeated Voldemort."

"Yes, but why do you have to be here?

"I'm the Minister of Magic, my boy and we have to show a united front."

"I don't think so. When did the Ministry ever stand behind me when I needed it?

Scrimgeour frowned. "The Ministry was very lenient with you on a number of occasions Mr. Potter and may I remind you that at your request the Ministry is at this moment housing a traitorous Death Eater?"

"But that…"

"Who should be in Azkaban getting what he deserves," Scrimgeour continued, looking down his nose at Harry, who could feel the same old useless frustration rise in him. He honestly despised having to deal with people who treated him like a child. He had lost his childhood the moment Cedric had died beside him in the graveyard, cast as 'the spare' by Voldemort as if he were nothing. Well, he wasn't a child and he refused to be treated like one any more. His eyes narrowed and he thought for a moment.

"Yes, I agree with you, but who knows what might fall from my lips when talking to those reporters. They push and push and worry and never let things die. It would be such a shame should something 'inappropriate' slip." Harry caught the Minister's horrified look and decided to press his advantage, aware that no one came into power without some skeletons in the closet. He would have to take the time to discover just what those skeletons were…just in case. "If you don't like Malfoy being in the Ministry cells then release him into my custody, I think I can handle him. Besides I only want him for a short time and then Azkaban can have him until his trial."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Scrimgeour looked in disbelief at Harry. "How would that look? A notorious Death Eater released into your custody? No…"

Harry held up his hand to stop him. "I'm not serious, Minister. What would I do with a Death Eater? I was merely highlighting the seriousness of this and how important it is for me to have some answers. I'll be seeing Malfoy this afternoon and then I will leave him in your capable hands."

"Quite."

The Minister looked obviously relieved and Harry wondered how much power he actually had. If he had pushed for Malfoy to be released into his custody, would the Minister have given in? He'd never abused the fact that he was apparently the only one who could defeat Voldemort, because he honestly didn't think he was. Nothing he had done in the last year had been a solitary effort and he knew definitely that he would not have been able to achieve anything were it not for the support and love and hard work of his friends, his family.

He turned to the Minister once more. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to leave unobtrusively and without all that rubbish that waits outside my door."

The Minister looked surprised. "But, they're all waiting for you my boy!"

"They are?" Damn, he thought. Where were the twins when you needed them? Some dungbombs would work to clear the room pretty quickly.

"Most certainly. They all want a story from you."

"Well, they're out of luck. I'd rather be surrounded by a pack of blast-ended skrewts than face that lot!" Harry retorted, looking round the room for a stairwell.

"They deserve something, Mr. Potter. "

"Tell them what you like; they'll make up what they want anyway."

"I don't think…" he started, but Harry cut him off.

"I'd appreciate it if you would stay here for a few minutes and allow me to leave by the stairs. I'll be in contact with you after I have seen Malfoy." He had decided it might be best to make a complete escape from the Hospital and come back to see Dean once all the reporters had left. Dean didn't need a horde of flashing cameras and twittering reporters around while he was trying to recover and come to terms with what had happened to him.

Taking the Minister's answering bluster as agreement, Harry took the opportunity to slip out the side door and down the stairs to the main lobby where he could Floo to the Ministry. The lobby was quite busy as family and friends of patients came and went. Harry supposed that there were quite a few more visitors than usual. Many wizards had been injured in the final battle. Hopefully, he could get past them all and through the floo before he was recognised.

He ducked his head in an attempt at hiding who he was, and made for the first clear fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo powder and said loudly, "The Ministry of Magic." The familiar swirling took him away and before he knew it he was stumbling from the fireplace, sooty and slightly disoriented. There really ought to be a better way to travel when apparating was out of the question, he thought irritably, brushing himself down and straightening his clothes. He'd never liked Floo travel, not since his first attempt had landed him in Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley.

As he headed past the wizard at the desk and checked in his wand, he couldn't help but notice the smiles on people's faces, and the relaxed atmosphere. It was so much different from the last time he had been here, when the security had been much tighter and most had the worried, harried look of those with important things on their mind. Many stopped to congratulate him, and shook his hand so much that he wondered how politicians managed to shake hands with people all day and still retain feeling in their hands.

He just smiled at them, shook their hands and extricated himself as fast as he could, finally making it into a lift and pressing the button to take him down to the lowest level of the building, where the holding cells were located.

There were two Aurors guarding the entrance to the cells. Arnold Hoxley, a young wizard of perhaps twenty-five, dark haired and eager. Built with a body that Harry imagined was much like that which Goyle would have grown into, but quite a bit more intelligent. A good man to have backing you up. The other Auror, Patrick Coghill, was much older, a hard looking man with sandy greying hair and a face that crinkled when he smiled. Harry had met both of them before and he gave them a grin.

"Harry," smiled Hoxley, extending his hand to Harry who took it and shook firmly, grimacing only slightly at the warning creaking of his fingers.

"Hoxley, Coghill, how are you two today?" he asked, moving to shake Coghill's hand as well.

"Good, good, Harry," Coghill replied smiling his face into crinkles. "Well done, congratulations and all that. Knew you could do it all along."

"Thanks," Harry nodded. "I'm here to see Malfoy. I hope you still have him here."

"Oh yeah, he's still here," Hoxley sniggered, giving Coghill a sideways glance which puzzled Harry. Coghill frowned at the other Auror, then turned to Harry.

"Yes, he's here. Filthy scum that he is," Coghill spat. "He should be in Azkaban with the rest of them." Harry just looked at him, privately agreeing but amazed that the sentiments seemed to be universally expressed.

"Right. Well, I'll just question him and then have him removed and out of your hair."

Hoxley handed him a clipboard and a quill. "You'll have to sign in." Harry took the quill and signed where indicated. He noticed that no one else had been in to see Malfoy.

"I'm the only one that's seen him then? He's not been interrogated by anyone?"

"No, Minister Scrimgeour gave explicit instructions that only you were to be allowed to question him."

"Okay. I hope he hasn't been too much trouble for you."

"Oh, no," sneered Coghill. "He's been very quiet, hasn't he, Arnold?"

Arnold Hoxley sniggered again. "Quiet as a mouse, Pat."

Harry nodded. "Right. Well, lead the way," he answered, and followed them down the corridor and stood back whilst they cast the unlocking charm on the door.

"We'll leave you here, Harry. Call if you need anything." Hoxley chuckled to himself, and the two walked back to the main desk, leaving Harry at the door to Malfoy's cell. He took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Harry stood in the open doorway and looked round the room. The cell was just the bare four walls, with a toilet and basin in one corner, a small table and two chairs in the centre of the room. The only light was from two everburning candles; both set high in the ceiling and the bed was pushed up against the side wall.

As he looked towards the bed he gasped in horror. Malfoy was lying on the bed, his face a mess of bruises. There was a large deep gash over one eye, which had bled into his hair and dried, streaking the blond a brownish colour. He could also see there was blood dribbling from one ear. His clothes had been stripped away and he was left only in thin prison pants that were filthy and covered in dried blood from cuts across the blond's chest. One arm was dangled over the side of the bed, hanging limply and there was a huge livid bruise on his side.

He moved quickly to the bed thinking as he did so, that he couldn't see that Malfoy was breathing.


	4. Issues of Abuse

**A/N:** Once again, thank you for all your lovely reviews.

Jamie.

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**Disclaimer:** These characters are not mine, I just play with them a little.

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Chapter 4: Issues of Abuse. 

Harry muttered angrily under his breath as he hurried to the still young man lying on the bed. He picked up Malfoy's limp arm by the wrist, searching for a pulse, pressing his fingers into the skin on the inside. With relief, Harry detected a faint but steady beat and so took the time to evaluate Malfoy's physical state.

He was furious with the treatment Malfoy had obviously received since his capture or surrender. The last time he has seen the blond, was just after the last battle, where he had looked tired and exhausted, but ultimately healthy and whole; certainly not beaten into unconsciousness. No one deserved that, not even supposed Death Eaters like Malfoy. Especially, not as he was a prisoner, there were rules about such things surely? If not, it was just common human decency. The fighting and hatred had to stop somewhere.

There was the deep gash over Draco's eye that Harry had seen from the door. The blood had stopped flowing and dried up, so the attack must have happened a while ago. There was bruising and blood from cuts and gashes all over his thin chest. The angle of one arm was awkward and looked, Harry thought with a grimace, like it might be broken. He was more concerned with the trickle of blood from Malfoy's ear, however. That looked dangerous.

Gently, he felt Malfoy's neck and head for anything out of place, but found nothing. Hopefully, the bruising that decorated the face was the cause of the bleeding ear, and not something more permanent. He gave one last appraising look at Malfoy, noticing that his face was peaceful; at least he wasn't feeling the pain anymore. Then he headed for the door, a frown on his face, determined to make the culprits take responsibility for this, but first he needed the first aid kit that each guard station kept for emergencies. He was still astounded that they had beat Malfoy and just left him there.

"Hoxley! Coghill!" Harry roared as he moved quickly along the hall to the station, where the two burly guards sat quietly chatting with each other. At Harry's voice they stood immediately, Hoxley with a grin of satisfaction on his face and the older man with a tight smile that wasn't wide enough to make the trademark crinkles that usually lined his face when he smiled.

"He quiet enough for you then, Harry?" Hoxley asked.

Harry's face tightened and he glared at the man. "Give me the first aid kit!" he demanded.

"You don't want to waste good potions on that piece of filth," sneered Coghill. Harry looked at the man, getting angrier by the second. Had these men no conscience? Hoxley was nodding beside him and a part of Harry wanted to hand out the same kind of treatment to them that they seemed to think that Malfoy deserved. But, that would solve nothing, he would go through official channels, do the right thing.

"Just get me the fucking first aid kit, Coghill. If you won't then I'll get it myself." They must have heard the anger in his voice, because Hoxley frowned for a second and reached into a cabinet and pulled out the box full of potions and creams. All the while, Harry kept his eyes on Coghill, and the man stared back, no flicker of emotion, or remorse, just cool regard.

"Here you are, Harry," Hoxley said as he placed the box into his arms, and Harry took hold of it and gave Coghill one final stare before turning and walking back to the cell. He refused to back down before Coghill, but he was dangerous and Harry reminded himself to watch his back. Just because Voldemort was dead, didn't mean that he could relax.

Entering the cell once more, clutching the kit in both hands, he checked that Malfoy was unmoved and set the box down on the table, opening it and surveying the array of vials. The broken arm he would heal first, he knew the spells for that. There wasn't much he didn't know about healing broken bones and cuts and bruises. He'd spent too long fighting and healing the wounds of battle to have not learnt something.

While he worked, the appraisal of Malfoy continued. The dreaded black dark mark was on Malfoy's inner arm and for a moment Harry was disappointed. He was sure that Malfoy had been going to take Dumbledore's offer of protection. Maybe it had already been too late then. As his fingers brushed over the mark, Malfoy stirred and groaned. Harry pulled his fingers back and set again to soothing healing creams over the cuts and bruises on the young man's chest. He was thin, a lot thinner than when Harry had last seen him at Hogwarts that black night. Malfoy's ribs were prominent, his stomach concave and hollow as he gently traced a nasty scratch that followed the line of his ribs.

Horrified at what he was doing, he quickly pulled his fingers away and glanced up at Malfoy's face - embarrassed and not sure why he had touched him like that- only to find his look met with frowning grey eyes.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Potter?"

"Healing you, Malfoy. What does it look like?" said Harry, more harshly than he intended to as he tried to cover his mortification at having been caught out. He held up the jar of cream that he was spreading over the cuts.

"Looks to me like you were enjoying yourself. Like what you see?"

"What? I don't…" Harry sputtered, because he didn't…he wasn't looking like _that…_

"Whatever, Potter, just get on with it," Malfoy sighed and weakly waved his hand, dismissing Harry's protest. He took a moment to calm down, telling himself that this was Malfoy, and if he were to get the answers he required, then he needed to keep his temper.

"You're obviously feeling better then," he smiled tightly as he finished covering the last of the cuts with the healing cream and watching them close and disappear.

"Don't count on it; it hurts all over like a bitch."

Harry frowned, hoping there weren't some internal injuries that he couldn't see. He had no hope of healing those. "Where does it hurt the most? I've healed what I could see."

"My back. I think they worked that over too."

Shit. "Roll over then and let me see. The cuts on your chest are gone now, and I mended your broken arm, you should be able to move."

"Not going to gently put your hands on me to turn me over then Potter?" Malfoy's weak attempt at humour made Harry smile just a little, and he raised his eyebrow.

"I can always refuse to heal you Malfoy. Who would argue?"

"Right, I'll just turn over then…" He made to lift his leg and swivel his hip, but he broke off with a loud gasp of pain and fell back flat against the narrow bed. "Oh, fuck…I… need help after all."

Harry was beside him quickly to help roll him over. His strong hands guided the slight body until Malfoy was on his stomach and Harry could see the magnitude of what had been done to his back. His own stomach lurched and he almost ran from the room, but he couldn't so he stayed. "Shit, Malfoy…what did they do to you?"

"It goes all the way down the backs of my legs too. "

There were red angry marks all over Malfoy's back, the darkness of them contrasting glaringly with the normal tones of his skin. They were rounded with blurred edges, some of them, and amidst the blotches heavy blisters had formed. No wonder he hurt all over, Harry thought, sickened. Someone had hit Malfoy with dozens of stinging burning hexes of some sort.

"Alright…wait," he whispered, reaching for a pain potion.

"It fucking hurts, Potter, why can't I go to St. Mungos, or get a real healer?"

"Do you really need to ask that?" Harry questioned as he opened the small bottle of potion. "You're a prisoner Malfoy, you get what they give you, and what they've given you is a short time out of Azkaban because I asked for it. You get me, or nothing. Here, I have a potion that will help with the pain."

"Fine," Malfoy groaned as he lifted himself onto his elbows wearily and wincing at the pain the movement caused his back. Harry held the bottle to his lips and tipped the potion into his mouth, making sure that he swallowed it. Malfoy flopped back down on the bed and looked to relax almost immediately.

"I'll need to get your trousers off if you want me to finish healing you," Harry didn't like having to move him again, but it needed to be done. There was hesitation from Malfoy, and Harry was about to reiterate that he needed help to remove the thin pants, but Malfoy sighed and moved his hips so that Harry could slide the cloth from under them.

He tried to be careful, not letting the distorted elastic from the waistband scrape over the burn marks and blisters. It didn't stop Malfoy's quick gasps though, and Harry hurried to finish as quickly as possible.

Once they were removed, Harry stared once more in disgust at the damage that had been done to Malfoy's legs and buttocks. In some places it looked as if the marks had burned through to the bone, Malfoy was so thin and his arse was so bony. Harry wasn't fussed about seeing Malfoy naked, he'd seen too much to be embarrassed or be anything other than detached at the intimacy. Then…

"Again…like what you see Potter?" Malfoy's drawl, now laced with tiredness that was obviously the potion beginning to calm him and make him sleepy, cut through his clinical examination. He frowned.

"Don't Malfoy. I can leave you here if you like, or send you to Azkaban," Harry warned. His sympathy lay with Malfoy's pain and the injustice of his treatment at the hands of those who were supposed to be better than that, but in the end, Malfoy was going to Azkaban.

"Sorry. It just feels weird," Malfoy sighed.

Harry nodded, "Well, if it's any consolation, I am not looking at your bony arse with anything other than complete disgust." He smirked as Malfoy jumped at that and turned his head to look back at Harry with an indignant haughty look on his face.

"I'll have you know, Potter, that my arse is perfect. Highly sought after in fact," Malfoy's face was a picture and Harry could hardly help a small grin as he began to soothe a cooling healing cream over the burn marks.

"Just shut up and let me finish."

"Yes sir," came the muffled huffy reply as Malfoy turned his head once more and let Harry get on with it.

He worked for a while, the pain potion allowing him to not be overly concerned at touching the marks. He studied Malfoy's back as it begun to heal and saw that it really was thin and bony. Harry could see every sharp angular bone and there was hardly any flesh on him. When he reached out to smooth cream over Malfoy's buttocks, he felt the flinching under his fingers, and quickly finished.

"So, tell me what happened…" he asked, hoping that talk would distract them both, because he had to admit that with some meat on him, Malfoy might have a nice arse after all. There was silence. Harry knew that Malfoy wasn't asleep, as he had moved when Harry touched him.

"Malfoy?"

"Oh sorry, I was under the impression that I was to shut up."

"Azkaban…" Harry couldn't resist a small smile though. Since when had Malfoy developed a sense of humour?

"Right." Malfoy heaved a sigh of surrender and his voice sounded tired. Harry knew that he would not have long before the young man fell asleep on him.

"And…?" he prompted.

Another sigh. "There's not much to tell, really." The voice was becoming fainter as the combination of fatigue, the healing creams and the pain potion did its work. "After I was…dumped in here, they left me alone. No one came to see me, or…feed me. Until this morning, least I think it was morning…so hard to keep track of time in here…" He sighed once more. "One of them, the big one…held me while the other one beat me until I passed out. I came to on the floor and they were both throwing the Inf…throwing hexes at my back. I don't remember anything until I woke with you perving over me." Harry could hear the faint smirk in Malfoy's soft voice. But he ignored that.

"Not good enough…" he said, suddenly angry once more.

"I-I don't have anything else to tell you, Potter!" Malfoy was trying to get some annoyance into his tone, but it came out weak from exhaustion.

"No, not you," Harry shook his head even though Malfoy couldn't see it. "We're supposed to be better than that," he added.

"Oh…"

Harry was surprised. He thought that Malfoy of all people would be the one screaming blue murder yet there he was just accepting it. He had not said one word about getting justice for this treatment, or anything like that. It was another puzzling thing about Malfoy, he thought, but perhaps it was just the potion. Once he was healed, Harry was sure that he'd be hearing more about this.

He sat there on the side of the bed, thinking. There was a part of him that was warning him to stay out of it, let Malfoy go to Azkaban as he deserved, forget the abuse dished out here, and get on with his life. But, as he heard Malfoy's breathing become deep and regular and realised that he was asleep, he knew he could never do it. What had he fought and killed Voldemort for, if not to stop this type of prejudice and abuse? If nothing was done to prevent this type of thing happening again, they were no better than the madman who threatened their very existence was. Were they?

Sighing as he stood up and ran his hands through his hair, he knew what he had to do. Fuck! Why did it have to be Malfoy? He still didn't have the answers he came for, and now he had to go and fight to have two Aurors punished for someone he didn't even like! Why?

Because it was the right thing to do.

He collected up the empty potions bottles and creams and repacked the first aid kit and tucked it under his arm. Before he left the room, he took the emergency ration pack from the kit and left it on the table. At least Malfoy would have some food when he woke. As he stepped from the room, he cast some of his own warding spells preventing anyone but himself from entering the room, shaking his head as he did so. Who would have thought that he would be protecting Malfoy? Of all people.

Then he locked the cell and went back to face the two Aurors. They must have heard his approach, because they were on their feet, looking at him warily, Coghill still with that intense hard look. Harry kept his eye as he neared and dumped the kit down on the table.

"You'll need to replenish that," he said as calmly as he could manage. "And I have set my own wards on that cell, so no one but me can enter. You will not be able to remove them, so I suggest that you don't even bother trying."

Coghill gave him a sly grin. "Want him for yourself do you? I hear he is a nice piece of arse."

Harry almost shoved the larger man against the wall and punched his face, but he withheld himself, eyes flashing dangerously. It would do no good for him to lose his cool now; it wasn't worth it, not over Malfoy anyway.

"You'll both be hearing about this," he snarled instead, and was rewarded by a slight flash of worry in Coghill's eyes, before it was masked by that irritating cool regard. He could also see from the corner of his eyes that Hoxley was agitated by the threat. Good.

"No one will do anything! He is Death Eater scum, who cares what happens to him?"

Harry stared fixedly into Coghill's eyes. "Do you know how much like a Death Eater you sound right now, Coghill? We're supposed to be better than that!" Harry turned and began to walk away.

"It will be his word against ours, Harry. No one will listen to him, no one will believe him!"

"No," Harry replied over his shoulder, "But they'll believe me."

As he continued down the hall, he was followed by the shouts of both men.

"You'll ruin my career over a Death Eater, Potter?"

"He's not worth it Harry!" this from Hoxley.

"I'll make sure you pay for this, Potter, you mark my words!" Coghill once more.

Harry sighed and continued, wishing for the life of him that he had not requested that Malfoy be detained in a Ministry holding cell, all to satisfy his curiosity. It was entirely his fault wasn't it? How did he get himself into these things? Now he had to go and see the Minister and he was not looking forward to that.


	5. Issues of Concession

**A/N:** Thanks again for the great reviews. Hopefully, you're all enjoying the story.

jamie

xxx

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**Disclaimer: **These characters are not mine, I just like to play with them a little and then put them back when I'm done.

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Chapter 5: Issues of Concession. 

Well aware that he was indeed heading into the proverbial lion's den in going into bat for Malfoy, Harry also knew that he would need to bypass the Head of the Aurors, Gawain Robards. He had never met the man that had taken over from Scrimgeour when he had become Minister of Magic a couple of years ago. The fact that there was no love lost between Harry and the Ministry, meant that he would be better off dealing with the devil he knew, than one of whom he had no knowledge. 

As he ascended the lift to the Minister's office, he thought carefully about what to say, allowing that charging into the office with his temper flaring would earn him no respect, nor would it enable him to get what he wanted. He almost smiled at that; Hermione would be so pleased. She had always been the one who made him stop and think before getting himself into trouble by just acting first and damning the consequences. Maybe he was learning.

First and foremost was to get those two guards removed from their positions. Harry didn't particularly care what happened to them; sacked or suspended and charged, it made no difference, as long as they were unable to exercise their brutality on other poor prisoners.

Secondly, he wanted to keep Malfoy in the holding cell until his trial. He was certain that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was not going to linger over trials for the captured Death Eaters. And although he still wasn't entirely sure why he wanted to keep Malfoy out of Azkaban for a while longer, something in him was telling him that he needed to. He supposed it was that he needed to hear from Malfoy himself that he had not been going to kill Dumbledore. To have his own judgement of what he had seen and heard that night confirmed.

Yes, Malfoy had let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts and yes, he had Voldemort's brand on his arm, but…he had his reasons and Harry understood the length people went to protect their family. How could he judge Malfoy on that? Snape also had the mark on his arm, had killed Dumbledore, but had proved by his later actions to have been working for the Light after all.

As he stepped from the lift, he saw Scrimgeour closing the door to his office as if to leave for the day. Harry hadn't realised it was quite so late in the afternoon. It was fortunate that he had arrived in time, then.

"Minister," Harry called out across the foyer. Scrimgeour looked up with a flash of annoyance, before it was masked with a smile of greeting.

"Harry, my boy. To what do I owe this pleasure?" He advanced towards Harry, switching his briefcase from his right hand to his left, and extending his hand to Harry in greeting. Harry took it reluctantly.

"This isn't a pleasurable visit, Minister, I'm sorry to say."

Scrimgeour stared at him perplexed.

"No," Harry continued, not wanting to go through stupid small talk. "The two Aurors guarding Malfoy, took it upon themselves to beat and torture him until he was unconscious and then left him without medical attention, food or water. I want them removed." Harry was very careful to keep his voice from displaying the kind of anger that was building once more as he recounted the incident.

The Minister's face almost relaxed and he smiled. "Not to worry, Harry, these things happen in a war. I'm sure no one will care about one prisoner, especially a Death Eater, being roughed up a little."

Harry could hardly believe his ears. "I care," he frowned angrily. "And he was more than 'roughed up' a little."

"Whatever," the Minister waved his hand at Harry, reminiscent of the way Malfoy had done earlier. It only made Harry angrier being dismissed so lightly. "No one will believe what he has to say anyway, so why bother with him? He's going to Azkaban after his trial and that will be that. You won't have to think about him ever again. He'll never leave there."

"So, you'll do nothing? Is that it? You'll condone the same treatment Voldemort handed out to those who disobeyed him, or to Muggles, because he's a Death Eater?"

"Why not? Those people held our world in terror. The things…" The Minister stopped and took a deep breath. "Just let it go, Potter. Let us deal with things from now on. You run off and…"

"I will NOT run off and let you 'deal' with things!" Harry exploded. "Malfoy is in that cell because I asked for him to be separated from the others, and..." Scrimgeour interrupted him.

"So, this is guilt talking is it?" he looked condescendingly at Harry, which only made Harry angrier.

"No, it's bloody well not! Why should we lower our standards of behaviour to those of Voldemort? Isn't that what we were fighting against?"

"I'm not going to discuss philosophies of war with you, boy, now leave it alone!" The Minster was now as angry as Harry.

"No, I won't. I can't. It's wrong, and if you won't do something about it, I will force you to."

"That would be very unwise, Potter."

"You leave me no option, Minister. I've put up my own wards around Malfoy's cell. No one will be able to enter without my permission. I want him kept there and guarded by Aurors of my choosing until the time of his trial. When he is fairly tried, he can go to Azkaban if that is his sentence. Until then, I want access to him whenever I see fit and I want him treated decently."

Harry stood there with his arms folded, suddenly unsure if he had overplayed his hand. There was a barely audible exhalation of acquiescence from the Minister.

"What will you do if I don't agree to those terms?"

"Go to the Press. At this stage there may not be too many who care about the treatment of prisoners, but there will be enough backlash to make the Ministry look bad. To make _your _ministry look bad."

"And in return, I get your cooperation…unlike earlier today?"

Harry sighed. Bloody hell, he had been trying to avoid this ever since sixth year. Fuck you Malfoy, you had better have some bloody good explanations for me to make this worth it.

He nodded.

An hour later he Floo'ed into the Burrow, a heap of files from the Ministry under his arm. When he arrived he was greeted with exclamations from everyone, claps on the back and the biggest bear hug he had ever received from Molly Weasley, who had tears in her eyes.

"Harry, we are so glad to see you, dear."

"Thanks, Molly," he replied, having given up calling them 'Mr.' and 'Mrs.' after Dumbledore died and he'd basically been left carrying The Order.

He hugged her back one handed for a moment and then extracted himself and took the chance to look around at all these people that he loved. He was pleased to see Hermione there, standing close to Ron, their arms linked and he gave them a grin.

"Come through and have some dinner. We were just about to start. George, set another place," directed Molly and she was off into the kitchen to see about serving up dinner.

Everyone moved towards the table, Harry placing his files on a table for later.

"What do you have there, Harry?" Hermione inquired.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Only my social calendar for the next month."

At their questioning looks, he added, "Long story, I'll tell you all when we're sitting down."

"Our Harry has bowed to the pressure of celebrity," quipped Fred as George came back with a plate for Harry. They all took their places at the table and George pulled Harry's chair out with a flourish and a mock salute. Harry just rolled his eyes and sat down.

Most of the Weasley family were present. Ron told Harry that Ginny was still at the hospital with Dean and that Bill and Fleur had also opted to sit with Dean, and hopefully help him adjust to the horrific scars and the changes that he would be faced with. Percy had been reconciled with his parents but did not live at home.

As Molly approached the table and began dishing out some delicious stew, Harry thought that he might as well tell the story of his day, now.

"I saw Malfoy today," he began. He heard Ron snort but Hermione elbowed him. He continued, telling them the extent of injuries that he had found on Malfoy's body and that it had been those set to guard him that had perpetrated this cruel act.

He looked around the table intently as he said this, gauging what sort of support he would have. There were shocked gasps from Hermione and Molly. The twins merely looked interested and Ron was shrugging.

"Harry, that's terrible," Hermione gasped.

"Oh, come on Hermione," Ron countered. "That git deserved anything he got."

"Ron! Don't be so ridiculous!" she almost shrieked, hitting his arm. "He was a prisoner, and even Wizarding Laws have rules on the treatment of prisoners."

Ah, Hermione, Harry smiled. He should have known, really. Of course she would know all about it. He made a mental note to ask her about them at some stage.

"And why should we care about that?" Ron shouted back. "I lost my brother to those scum, why in hell should I care what happens to Malfoy?"

Hermione's mouth opened to respond, her eyes filled with anguish and Harry could see that she was torn between allowing that Ron was still grieving for his brother, and upholding the Wizarding Law, so Harry quietly responded for her.

"Because if we don't treat people right, Ron, regardless of what they may or may not have done, then we are no better than Voldemort and this whole war has been for nothing."

"But…" started Ron.

"No, Ron," Harry forestalled him. "You know better than anyone how I grieved when Charlie was killed, he was like my brother too, but if we learn nothing from this war, then his death was wasted. His life fighting against Voldemort was wasted, as was every other death in this war."

There was quiet around the table at Harry's emphatic statement, and so he continued. "Until he has been proven guilty and sentenced to Azkaban, as far as I am concerned then he is entitled to be protected while he is in custody."

"Harry is quite right," Arthur spoke up. "I remember old Mr. Bicklemouth. He'd been held in Azkaban on suspicion of hexing muggle cars to run themselves into trees at high speed and kill the occupants. He'd been denied medical treatment for an illness he claimed he had, and he died in prison. It was found later that he had been innocent of all charges and his family sued the Ministry for many hundreds of thousands of Galleons. Remember Molly? That was back when we were at Hogwarts, wasn't it? We had classes with his grandson Andrew."

Molly nodded, but this provoked a fresh outburst from Ron.

"Of course he's guilty, Harry. He's a fucking Death Eater!"

"Ronald Weasley! I will not have language like that at my dinner table, thank you young man," Molly admonished, looking cross.

"We don't know that he's guilty," Harry said, smiling thanks at Molly as she passed him a plate of stew. He took a roll from the dish in the middle of the table and began to eat, the others following suit.

For a few moments there was quiet except for the clicking of cutlery against the dishes and Ron's very muted mutterings, but no one paid him too much attention.

"That's doesn't explain your social calendar, Harry," George reminded him, a mouthful of stew rendering his words a bit of a mumble and earning himself a glare from his mother.

Harry nodded and put his fork down.

"I had a bit of a run-in with Scrimgeour over Malfoy. I went to complain about his treatment and to get those guards disciplined, and he wanted to sweep it all under the rug. I think if I hadn't made a fuss those two might have got away with it."

"And so they should," Ron snorted.

"No!" Harry fairly shouted. "You didn't see him, Ron. I thought he was dead when I first entered that cell, and they just left him with no food or water or medical attention whatsoever. He could have died!"

"And why would I care if he died? For that matter, why would you care?" Ron was yelling now too, and he thumped his hand on the table in emphasis.

"Because, Ron, it's the right thing to do. Forget for a moment that this is Malfoy we're talking about. How is it right to do that to anyone and then leave them to die? You explain that to me!"

"Because he's as guilty as fu-hell!" Ron yelled back.

God, he didn't want to argue with Ron. He knew the red head could be as stubborn as a rock in some areas and dealing with the loss of Charlie gave him some justification for his bitterness. Harry felt it too. He was glad Voldemort was dead and he did not regret the deaths of those he had killed in the War, but it had to stop, or they would just find themselves in a never-ending war. Then the horror would never cease. Not for anyone.

Then Hermione jumped in and settled the subject.

"We thought Snape was guilty too, Ron." She paused to let her words sink in and watch Ron's anger subside. "Harry's right, we need to stop this or it will become a culture of hate and revenge and…I don't think I can live with that. Can you? What happens the next time you lose a family member? Go out and kill some more people? Come on, Ron…think about it."

There was silence at the table; everyone had stopped eating, for Hermione was right. She always was, and Harry loved her for it. All eyes were on Ron, waiting for his reaction. Ron for his part was obviously warring with himself, but with a great sigh he looked up at her and nodded.

"Ok, I get the point."

It seemed to relax the tense atmosphere and the noises of eating began once more.

"So, Harry, finish your story about why you now have a social calendar," Fred said.

"Yes and tell us how we can crash the party and cash in on all the pretty women that will throw themselves at you," George added.

"Not to mention and whole new way to advertise our new products," Fred mused, a scheming look upon his face.

"Not to mention…" laughed George, somehow reading Fred's mind as it made no sense to Harry. How were they planning to do that?

"Go on, Harry," Arthur interrupted.

"Well," began Harry, a little unsure how what he was about to say would be received. "When the Minister refused to do anything about it, I threatened to go public. We made a deal. The guards are to be dismissed, Malfoy gets to stay where he is in a Ministry cell until his trial and in return, I get a social calendar for a month." He shrugged. "In the end, I figured that the press would be hounding me anyway, I may as well do it in some logical manner and get it over with. Plus it keeps the Ministry off my back, and the public on my side as a useful tool if I need it."

Hermione positively beamed. "Harry when did you grow up and learn to use your head?"

Harry laughed. "It might be a bit arrogant, but I had no choice. I had to throw my weight around a bit. It's about time I used some of this clout I supposedly have."

"Prepare to be crushed by the weight!" George clowned around holding his chest, and everyone laughed. Harry was pleased that the atmosphere had become relaxed once more and dinner finished with much laughter.

When they had all eaten their fill, Harry stood to help clear the dishes and cornered Molly in the kitchen.

"Molly, I was wondering if you could do me a favour," he asked.

"Certainly, Harry, dear, what is it?"

"Malfoy has been left in that cell for a couple of days now with no food or water and I know of no one who cooks better than you. I was hoping you'd make me up a few things I could take in to him when I go back shortly. Some of that stew would be wonderful." Harry smiled at her and watched her frown for a moment before a look of concern crossed her face.

"Of course, Harry, that poor boy. Fancy not even feeding him! I'll do it right away."

"Thank you, Molly, I knew I could count on you," Harry said as he hugged her. She pulled back and patted his cheek, a little flustered at the attention.

"You're family, Harry."

As she set to making up a basket, Harry went out to the living room and sat next to a quiet Ron.

"You ok?" he asked.

"Yeah. Look, I'm sorry about before, I just…"

"I know, and I understand, really," Harry clapped him on the back.

"I hope you know what you're doing though. With Malfoy I mean. You know how I feel about him."

"Yes, but Ron, I have his Ministry file over in that pile and nowhere in there is any record of any Death Eater activity. There is mention that he received the Mark and I've seen that he has it, but he's not been implicated in any of the atrocities that have happened. None. Does that not surprise you?"

Ron's eyes widened, and then lowered to look at his feet. "I'm sure that he's just good at getting out of things. Doesn't change the fact that he is a Death Eater."

"Granted." Harry allowed, lapsing back into silence. Malfoy really was becoming an enigma of sorts. What was his story? If he had the Mark, but had not been involved in any Death Eater activity, what had he been doing all year?

Molly chose this time to come into the living room carrying what looked like to be a heavy basket. She placed it on Harry's knee, with a sigh of relief. It was very heavy indeed. "I've put a big dish of the stew in and it's charmed to stay hot. There's also some pumpkin juice and glasses, fruit and a large fruit cake. I think that will fill the poor boy up."

Harry moved the basket to the floor and stood, smiling at her in thanks.

"I'll also pop over to your flat and get out some decent clothes for you. You can't attend all those functions in your ragged old jeans and jumpers."

"What would I do without you Molly?" Harry grinned, and she waved him off with a beaming smile.

He said goodnight to everyone, picked up the basket and tucked his files into the top. A handful of Floo powder tossed into the fireplace and he was back in the Ministry.

He was relieved to see the two new Aurors he had requested on duty as he approached the cell block where Malfoy was being kept. He greeted them, signed in and headed to Malfoy's cell to take down the wards.

Once completed, he entered the cell and placed the basket on the table, noticing that Malfoy had not eaten the emergency rations he'd left earlier. A quick glance at the young man showed that Malfoy had probably not even woken since he'd fallen asleep due to the potion. He was still naked as he had been asleep by the time Harry had finished applying the creams and he had not the heart to wake him.

After removing the food from the basket, he went and knelt by the narrow bed, scrutinizing the face that was almost buried into the flat pillow beneath it. The features were relaxed, but even in this state the face was angular and thin. His eyes traveled the length of Malfoy's back, down over his arse, Harry had to admit, it really was a nice arse, and seeing the faint traces of the scars from the burns, he once more noted how thin Malfoy was. Too thin to be healthy. "Where have you been all year, Malfoy," he whispered to himself, "to get yourself in a state like this?"

Shaking his head to clear the odd thought that he was actually feeling sorry for Malfoy from his brain, he gently shook his shoulder to wake him. He fell back on his arse on the floor, when Malfoy suddenly shot up at the touch, gathered himself into the corner of the bed and looked around with wide, frightened eyes, trembling.

From the floor, Harry, held up his hand. "Malfoy, it's alright, it's only me," he said softly, reassuringly.

For a few moments more, the blond looked around the room before fixing his scared grey eyes on Harry's intently. They held gazes for what seemed like an age before Malfoy finally relaxed and the mask of his cool exterior shuttered his eyes once more.

"Damn, Potter, don't do that to me. I thought they'd come back to finish me off." Malfoy was still breathing slightly faster than normal but he moved back onto the middle of the bed, sitting with his legs over the side.

"Sorry, next time I'll wake you with a kiss like Sleeping Beauty shall I?" Harry laughed from the floor, still. Quickly he stood, he really was sorry he had scared him.

"Sleeping Beauty?"

"Muggle fairy tale," Harry said in explanation, but in answer to Malfoy's questioning look, added, "A wicked Queen cursed a beautiful Princess and put her to sleep for a hundred years until her Prince Charming came and kissed her awake." An odd blush had begun to settle on his cheeks as he realised the implications.

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow, and surprisingly his lips were curled into a smile and not a sneer. "Oh? I'm the beautiful Princess and you're Prince Charming, I assume? That would be acceptable then," Malfoy teased, once more holding Harry's eyes captive in an intense look that Harry was not quite sure how to read.

Harry blinked, not unaware of the charged atmosphere. "How are you feeling?"

Without removing his eyes from Harry, Malfoy stretched out his arms above his head, twisting and turning to see if there was any pain. There was none by the look in his eyes, Harry saw.

"I seem to be as good as new, Potter. You must have magic hands."

Malfoy's voice had become lower and was almost seductive and Harry reluctantly dragged his eyes from his stare and lowered them to his chest and lower, before blinking at what he was doing, blushing and looking away. Damn him.

"Lucky for you then, right?" he grinned, aware that it was forced. "Put your pants on and come eat. I've bought you some food."

"Food? Great, but I'm not letting those pants touch my skin, Potter. They're covered with blood if you didn't see that before and just…no." Malfoy stood up and walked unselfconsciously to the table to take a seat, and Harry was aware that his eyes were on him and following the graceful walk the whole time. "You'll just have to put up with me naked until you bring me some clean clothes, preferably some decent ones, or else I'll start to think you like seeing me naked." Malfoy quipped lightly, but a glance into his eyes, told Harry a different story. The comment was loaded with innuendo, just as the others had been.

"I've seen too many naked people to be overly concerned about whether or not your bony arse is naked, Malfoy."

The blond opened his mouth as if to make a smart retort, but closed it again and looked longingly at the dishes of food.

"Eat, Malfoy, and then we talk," Harry said as he sat opposite, poured them both some pumpkin juice and cut himself a piece of the fruit cake. Malfoy picked up a spoon and took the cover from the dish of stew and dug in, looking like he hadn't seen a decent meal in months.

From the sinfully appreciative groans that were coming from his mouth, Harry had to wonder if Malfoy was appreciating the food or flirting again. He ignored it, and the tight feeling it gave him in his chest, because it was obviously a game in which Malfoy thought that he might gain something from – his freedom perhaps. Not likely, not unless there was a bloody good reason.

Finally, after Malfoy had eaten more food than Harry thought could possibly fit in that thin frame and polished off the rest of the pumpkin juice, he leant back in the chair and sighed. "That was the best thing I think I've ever eaten."

Harry laughed. "I'll tell Molly Weasley that," he said. Oh the irony. Malfoy would hate that. He'd always hated the Weasley's with as much passion as he'd hated Harry.

But then Malfoy surprised him again, by opening his mouth to say something and then closing it with a shake of his head.

"What?"

"Nothing," Malfoy shook his head. "Though, I think…will you thank her for the food for me?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Ok, who are you and where is the real Draco Malfoy?"

The blond just smiled sadly. "I've always been here, just, most people didn't care to look past the obvious."

"Past what obvious?"

"The name, the expectations…I never really understood how much we had in common before…V-Voldemort threatened my family."

Harry nodded slowly, not sure if he agreed with him as he had never thought about it, but allowed that he might have a point. Harry had wrangled with everything that came with his name and the expectations of him, too.

"You don't sound surprised that he threatened my family."

Harry shook his head. "I was there, that night. I saw what happened with you and Dumbledore."

Malfoy's eyes widened for a moment before he resignedly shook his head and looked away. "I should have known. The second broom, right? Why did you do nothing?"

"I couldn't do anything. Dumbledore used the split second he had to disarm you, to immobilize me instead. I was under my dad's Invisibility Cloak. He knew he was dying, Malfoy, but he didn't want you to be the one to kill him."

"Snape told me later," Malfoy confirmed. He looked up at Harry. "Did you trust him? Dumbledore, I mean."

"Yes, I did. We'd had differences in the past, but by then, he'd told me what I had to do and I did." Harry felt all this was very strange, sitting here with Malfoy who was naked, having a civilized conversation with him. It wasn't…bad…just strange.

"You wouldn't have killed him, would you?" Harry asked. This was one of the most important questions Harry needed answers to, but Harry thought that he already knew the answer to that one.

Malfoy looked back at Harry for a long time, then gave another small smile and shook his head. "I couldn't. All that year, I thought I could…to save my family, I knew I had to, but in the end I couldn't." Malfoy folded his arms on the table and rested his head upon them. "I really wanted to believe him…that he'd help them. And then, after, I was stuck with Snape. He took me back to Voldemort, I took my punishment and he let me live."

Silence fell then, Harry quietly relieved that he had been right in the end. After a few moments, Harry noticed that Malfoy's shoulders were shaking and he realised that the young man was crying. He was just about to say something, when Malfoy began talking again in a much more strained voice.

"But he killed mother anyway. Father he said was too valuable to him, and so he kept him alive. He used me as bait for my father as well. Not that father had ever had any qualms about killing and torturing Muggles, but he said that it never hurt to have some insurance."

A stifled sniff came from the bowed head, and Harry finally got up from his chair and walked around the table to the still sniffing Malfoy. Uncomfortably, he placed his hand on Malfoy's shoulder. He wasn't good at comfort, he never knew just exactly what to do, but he knew that losing ones mother was traumatic no matter who you were.

Harry was surprised however, when he felt one of Malfoy's hands reach up and grip his and hold onto it. He left his where it was, offering silent comfort as he cried, and after a while, a tear-streaked face looked up at him and whispered.

"I know about _Corpus Inflammare_."


	6. Issues of Security

**Disclaimer:** The world and most of the characters are not my property. I just give them new villians to play with, and occasionally they play with each other.

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**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who reviewed my last chapter, hopefully you'll all enjoy this one as well. 

Jamie 

xx

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Chapter 6: Issues of Security.

"I know what _Corpus Inflammare_ is."

Harry's finger gripped tighter into Malfoy's shoulder when he heard those words and a frown of disbelief covered his face.

"What did you say?"

Malfoy sniffed and wiped his face, shaking the hair from his eyes as they once more captured Harry's. "I said," his voice was getting stronger now, "I know what _Corpus Inflammare_ is. I know all about it, I helped discover it."

Harry pulled back and tried to let go of Malfoy's shoulder but Malfoy refused to let Harry's hand go. Harry was in too much shock to pay it much attention, just stood there, processing what Malfoy had actually said.

_Corpus Inflammare _was the spell that Harry had used on Voldemort – or what was left of him – after they had destroyed all the Horcruxes. It was the spell that Snape had managed to sneak out to the Order, to Harry specifically. Harry had told no one except Hermione and Ron about the spell, how he had received it and from whom.

They, none of them, had even known what it was or how it worked. No matter how much Hermione had researched, how many books she had waded through, there was very little information on Horcruxes, let alone how to destroy someone once their Horcrux protection was gone. She had found nothing.

For almost a month they had tried to find out about the spell. They had tested it on inanimate objects expecting them to burn as _Inflammare _meant, 'to burn'. Nothing. With Hermione gagging and wringing her hands and Harry's wand hand shaking, they had even tested it on a mouse, thinking that perhaps the _Corpus_ part of the spell indicated that it needed a body. Again, nothing. In the end they had decided that testing the spell on a person was too much and, if the time arose, they would just have to have faith that it worked.

And having that faith was not an easy task. The spell had come from a questionable source at best. How were they to believe that Snape was acting to their benefit? How could they have faith in a man that had killed their mentor?

The main reason was the attached note that came with the information.

_Potter,_

_Dumbledore trusted me._

The note was in that same small cramped handwriting that he had seen in the potions book belonging to the Half Blood Prince. His initial reaction had been to scowl and disregard the spell, thinking, 'Yeah, Dumbledore trusted you and you killed him!' The more he had thought about it though, the more things just didn't seem to fit. He _knew_ Dumbledore was dying – he'd helped with that by forcing the poison down his throat. Also, Dumbledore would _never _beg for his life like that. No, something else had been going on and it was just another of the many questions he'd had about that night that no one seemed able to answer.

Malfoy's voice bought him back from his thoughts. "Harry…?"

Harry blinked, turned towards the voice and realised he was still holding Malfoy's hand and that he was being looked at in some concern. He extracted his hand from Malfoy's and sat down, rubbing at his temple. "I think you'd better tell me what you know about that spell," he said tiredly.

"I helped Snape find it," Malfoy replied. When Harry looked up at him, he could see that Malfoy was more composed now and looking at him with a smug little smile.

"Why should I believe you, Malfoy?" Of course Harry was not going to just believe every word that came out of Malfoy's mouth. He wanted to, which surprised him. Astounded him, actually. Why on earth did he want to believe Malfoy? If it were true and Malfoy did actually help find the spell that killed Voldemort for good, then that pretty much was his ticket out of Azkaban. In good conscience, Harry could not let him go there…if this were true.

Malfoy looked at him coolly, with a hint of irritation. "Did you ever find out what that spell does, exactly, Potter?"

"Well, obviously, Malfoy. It burned Voldemort." Harry retorted. Malfoy waved at him impatiently.

"I assume you told the other two members of your little fan club, in which case I'm sure you had Granger test out the spell, do research, seeing as she is the brains of the Golden Trio," he said crinkling his nose as if he'd said something unpleasant and, knowing Malfoy, he would be disgusted that he'd had to admit Hermione was clever. "What did she find? It didn't work on anything else, did it?"

"No, it didn't. Do you know why?"

Malfoy sighed and ran his hand through his hair, which was dirty and lank, though at this point, Harry saw that he hardly cared.

"_Corpus Inflammare_ is a spell that was designed specifically to destroy, by fire, the body of a splintered soul. It was never going to work on anyone or anything else except Voldemort."

Well, that would explain it, Harry thought, but it raised a lot of other questions. Nodding thoughtfully, Harry looked at Malfoy in a whole new light.

"Tell me," he said, "Why were you helping Snape, then?"

"It's along story, Harry, do you mind if I tell you tomorrow?" Malfoy was looking tired. Belly full of good food, but still weak and undernourished, the consequences of his recent beating were obviously telling on his body. Besides, he was still naked and Harry, whilst not uncomfortable with that, felt that it just didn't seem right to leave him like that.

Harry nodded. "Alright, I should go and let you sleep anyway. I'll come back in the morning with some clothes for you. They won't be what you are used to," he smiled, "but you'll at least be covered."

Malfoy nodded his thanks, and perked up a bit to tease. "Seeing my naked body too much for you then, Potter?"

"Oh, yeah, Malfoy, I can hardly restrain myself from throwing you on the bed and shagging your brains out," Harry drawled.

Funny, it didn't sound so gross when he said it aloud.

"What's stopping you, then?" Malfoy shot back lightly, a hint of hope in his voice.

Harry gave him a long stare before answering. "Beside the fact that you are thin as a rake and obviously not well and are still a Death Eater and my enemy until proven otherwise, you mean?" he asked with a smile on his face.

Malfoy merely raised his eyebrow and smirked. "I shall endeavour to recover extraordinarily quickly then, shall I? While you are doing your 'Saviour' thing and proving my innocence. Then you can shag me senseless any time you like."

"Look, Malfoy, I don't even know how to go about proving that you helped Snape find that spell. If I can't then I don't know what to do to save you from Azkaban," Harry said, ignoring him.

Malfoy ran a tried hand over his eyes, nodding, deflated once more. "Why do you believe me then?"

"Because I know now how closely Snape must have kept his secret about his role as a spy. I know what he was like about his possessions and his work. His whole nature was secretive and unless you were helping him, there is no way that he would have let slip about his research or his findings.

"The problem is that no one believes he was still a spy for the Order. After he killed Dumbledore, the whole Wizarding world thought of him as a traitor. No one knew about the spell, apart from me and Hermione and Ron. I didn't tell the Order and I can bet that my friends didn't tell anyone either. Nor would Snape have told anyone. I need to find a way to prove him not a traitor before the fact that you helped him will make any difference."

"Why can't you tell them that he gave you the spell?"

Harry thought about that for a moment. He could tell the Ministry everything. About the Horcruxes and what they were. How Ron and Hermione and himself had been the ones to find and destroy them. But, there was no proof of that either. Even Hermione had agreed not to keep any notes, which was a hard decision for her to make, in case they fell into the hands of yet another power hungry psychotic. Dumbledore, Slughorn and Snape were all dead and they were the only ones Harry knew of that could confirm his story.

Logically, therefore, telling the Ministry that not only was Snape still a spy for the Order – an organisation the Ministry had little time for – but that he had provided the spell needed to kill Voldemort, and, to top that off, a Death Eater in custody had helped him? They'd never believe him. It was too slim a chance to take, unless he couldn't come up with some proof. There was still time to find some.

"They wouldn't believe me," he finally said.

"I'm pretty well fucked then, aren't I?" Malfoy seemed to shrink into himself.

Harry had to agree right now. It seemed so long ago that he had hated Malfoy, but in the space of a few hours, the hate had disappeared. Now, he wasn't sure what he felt. There was pity there. He'd had his doubts confirmed; Malfoy wasn't a killer, but now he was stuck in a situation that would have him branded one, or a traitor. Either way it didn't matter, unless Harry found some way to prove what Malfoy had been doing during the war, then he was going to go to Azkaban.

He looked at Malfoy. "Don't give up, I'll think of something. You should get some sleep now, though."

Malfoy nodded and stood wearily, heading back to the bed. Harry stood also, preparing to leave, but Malfoy grabbed his arm, turning him around to face him.

"Po- err, Harry, can I ask something of you?"

Harry looked into the dejected face and nodded. "Of course."

"Would you mind terribly if I hugged you?" Their eyes met and Harry could see the pleading, lost lonely need of the young man who had cried for his mother. This wasn't flirting; this was comfort, the solid comfort of another human body to reassure him that he was not alone.

In response, Harry held out his arms and nodded. When he felt Malfoy's thin arms wrap around his waist he closed his own awkwardly around his shoulders.

center .o0o. /center 

"Mr. Potter…Harry, can you tell us how you killed he Who Must Not Be Named?"

"Harry, there are rumours that you have a Death Eater in the Ministry Building, can you…?"

"Mr. Potter, tell us what is next in the life of The Chosen One."

The voices all seemed to come at once and blur into a babble of noise so that Harry could hardly think straight, let alone see for the flashing of the bulbs on the cameras that various reporters in the crowd were using.

It was Harry's first official 'meet the press' function that he had promised Scrimgeour he would attend, and it was at the ungodly hour of 9am. Harry had donned clean, respectable trousers and a button down shirt, cleaned his glasses and even made an attempt to do something with his hair. Not that it made much difference and in reality he didn't care all that much. His appearance was just a part of him and of little importance.

Still, he'd made the effort and Scrimgeour was sitting beside him, looking almost like a proud parent, which made Harry churn a little on the inside. He held up his hand to stop all the questioning.

"One at a time, please. I'll try and answer all your questions but I can't if I can't understand them," he grinned, hoping to relieve some of his own nerves, by getting the reporters to act a little less like a mob. They, in turn, stepped back, no less eager than before, but mollified that Harry had said he would try to answer all questions.

"Thank you," Harry said, pleased that at least Scrimgeour was letting him run this how he liked and had not taken control of the whole interview. He pointed to one young reporter, with a flashing nametag that read, 'Janus Binkerton, _Quibbler_.' "You first, you have a question?"

"Yes, Harry, Janus Binkerton, _Quibbler_. My readers would like to know what it was that you used to kill V-Voldemort," the young man stuttered and sat down.

Harry smiled. "Unfortunately, that is something I cannot tell you, Janus. Not even the Minister here knows that. I'd like to keep that information to myself for the moment, if you don't mind."

Janus, as well as the rest of the reporters, looked disappointed but most of them clamoured to be the next one to ask a question. Harry pointed to another reporter, who looked suspiciously like Rita Skeeter, but whom Harry knew couldn't be, as that particular bug had been sent off to America where her brand of reporting was much more… accepted.

"Harry, Mr. Potter," the woman said. "About this Death Eater it is rumoured that you have in custody."

"Yes…er sorry, I didn't get your name," Harry smiled, tightly.

"Talulah Swirl for _Witch Weekly,_ sorry. The question is, is there a Death Eater in the Ministry cells and if so, who and why is he there?"

Harry gave a glance towards Scrimgeour and they both shook their heads. They had both agreed before the media conference that they would not divulge Malfoy's identity officially, although too many people knew about it for it not to leak to the media sooner or later.

Harry turned back to look at the reporters. "Yes, there is a Death Eater in the Ministry holding cells. He is helping us with our enquiries and unfortunately, I cannot tell you any more at this stage."

"Does that mean that the Death Eater in question could have been a spy, Mr. Potter?" This and several other questions were all fired at him from several quarters and he held up his hand once more.

"No more about that, please. Until things are finalised there has to be some confidentiality kept. Next question?" Harry pointed out another wizard.

"Peter Sully, _Freedom Press_, "Could you, or the Minister tell us if the Death Eaters will be questioned using _Veritaserum_, and if so, what safeguards will be in place to protect the minds of those undergoing questioning that way?"

Harry felt Scrimgeour lean close and whisper in his ear. "The _Freedom Press_ is an activist magazine campaigning for prisoner's rights. Damn meddlesome and bloody interfering…" but Harry moved his head away and smiled. He'd have to get onto this Peter Sully and see what this magazine was all about. He was sure that Hermione would be interested, too. He turned back to Sully.

"Whilst this is hardly the place to be discussing civil rights, I will say this. In each case, The Ministry should be made to prove the guilt of the accused, rather than relying on archaic and often brutal methods of extracting information, and I will endeavour to ensure that this is the case." He earned himself a black look from Scrimgeour for that statement, but Harry didn't mind. "Next question?"

"Bessie Featherstone, Mr. Potter. Can you tell us what your plans are now for the future?"

Harry took a deep breath before he started on his planned answer. He and Scrimgeour has worked out this little speech after Harry had come back from leaving Malfoy some clothes and checking up on his injuries early this morning. He didn't agree with some of it, but the pieces that Scrimgeour wanted included were the price he paid for getting what he wanted.

"Thanks, Bessie," Harry started, and looked around at the crowd, blinking a bit. He didn't like being here, he really was uncomfortable being in such limelight, but he had grown up enough to realise that it was part of his life and he could use it to make his and others' lives easier.

"For now, I will be helping the Ministry bring to trial those Death Eaters we have in custody in Azkaban. The Minister and I want to ensure that those accused of being Death Eaters are in fact guilty of more than having a brand on their arm."

He looked closely at all of them.

"Fear makes us all do things we would never dream of otherwise. Fear of the unknown, fear of pain and suffering, fear for the safety of our loved ones. We will be making sure that just punishments are handed down for all. Minister Scrimgeour and his staff are just as eager to have this finalised, as I'm sure we all are.

"But, let me assure you, that fear of the Death Eaters, or fear of another Dark Lord, does not justify behaving in a manner that brings us down to his level. We are finally free of the terror that he injected into all of us and are now at peace. We must learn to live in peace again.

"I want to impress upon you to take that into consideration. Think about it. Retaliation against the families of those held as Death Eaters and traitors, does no one any good. Revenge only leads to darkness and bitterness and makes us no better than Voldemort.

"We are free from that. We are at peace and the Ministry and I will be working hard to ensure that we are not like Voldemort, we do not need to live like him."

He was a bit breathless when he was done, the nerves of saying such a long speech making his breathing slightly erratic. He knew his face had an impassioned look to it and he kept it there to show them how serious he was. It galled him that he had to align himself with the Ministry so obviously, but if Scrimgeour were serious when he said he agreed with Harry that they had to learn to live in peace again, then it might be worth it.

There was a few minutes' silence while all the reporters digested this information. Then, their questions seemed to all come at once. Harry let Scrimgeour deal with them. He'd done his part as agreed, and now the ones dealing officially with the recovery could take over. Instead, his mind began to list all the things he would have to do. He still hadn't found time to listen to Malfoy's story since he left Hogwarts, or go and see Dean. Both of which he'd have to do today. And he needed to bring Ron and Hermione up to date on what he'd found out. If anyone could come up with a solution, then Hermione could.

He felt a little guilty at having to ask Hermione to help out. She deserved a break. She and Ron had borne the brunt of Harry's tempers and doubts and frustrations in the search for the Horcruxes and now it seemed that he would need to call on them both again. He was unsure if Ron would even help, seeing as it was for Malfoy, and no matter how innocent Malfoy was, Ron hated him and would baulk at helping.

His attention was called back to the reporters when he heard his name called by one of them, attached to a very personal question.

"Mr. Potter, what association do you have with a Mr. Draco Malfoy?" was the question, and it had come from a balding middle-aged man that Harry had not noticed before. He looked familiar, but he just couldn't place him. For a moment, Harry did not reply, his mind was running at a hundred miles an hour. Why would someone ask him about Malfoy? As far as anyone except a few people knew, the last time Harry had seen Malfoy was in the battle at Hogwarts when Dumbledore had died.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand the question," Harry replied warily.

"There are rumours that your relationship with Draco Malfoy is, shall we say, close," the man smiled maliciously.

There was a leak somewhere. Perhaps too many people knew that Malfoy was the Death Eater being held in the Ministry. Harry was sure that none of the Weasley's would tell the press anything. They were more than aware of Harry's disregard for them. Someone in the Ministry then? Scrimgeour had promised him that all staff were under confidentiality agreements and no one in the Ministry Building would be able to release any information to the Press.

Harry stopped. Coghill. That's who it must have been. The Auror that had been transferred to another job detail outside the Ministry, for beating up Malfoy. He'd made accusations like that to Harry when Harry had first visited Malfoy. He was the only one it could be. He had a motive to discredit Harry and he'd threatened to make Harry sorry.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, sir," Harry replied tightly, only minute traces of sarcasm on the 'sir'. "Draco Malfoy and I have a history of hostility towards each other. Nothing has changed. That will be all."

Harry had had enough for the day. He didn't have to sit there and listen to that type of slander. He rose and left the room, not even noticing Fred and George by the door, handing out leaflets about their shop to anyone entering or leaving, until they fell in step beside him and walked with him to the Apparition point.

"That was a pretty low blow in there, Harry," Fred frowned, serious for once.

Harry rubbed his scar, frowning. "Yeah, but I expected some questions about my private life…just not that sort. Listen," he stopped and turned to them both, "could you two do me a favour and find out who he is? Someone is leaking information to the Press and I'd like to be able to put a stop to it."

"'Course," said George.

"It's our new profession, Harry," Fred smiled, now.

"Investigations?"

"We're perfect for it," George winked.

"No one takes us seriously at all," Fred joked.

"I wonder why," grinned Harry.

"And, it helps us come up with new lines for the shop." George pulled out a round, smooth object from his pocket, about the size of Harry's smallest fingernail.

"That," said Fred, pointing to it, "is the Weasley's Wizard Wheel. Designed to be slipped into someone's pocket unobtrusively, or left somewhere out of sight,"

"And record everything they say," finished George. "Muggles have extremely interesting spy equipment, but we've enhanced this with good old fashioned Wizarding know how."

"Normally, a Muggle listening device needs a transmitter to send the recording to whoever planted it."

George continued. "And once it is in place, it has to stay there until physically removed."

"But we can direct this one to remove itself," Fred said sagely. Then he broke into a grin. "It just rolls away and disappears, poof, into thin air."

"Hence the name," George also grinned. "It also has a security device as well. If the person it is planted on becomes aware of what they think is a stone in their pocket, it will also disappear. That's why we couldn't let you try it out the other day. If you know about it, it won't work."

"That's ingenious, guys," Harry said, impressed. "I suppose it's an updated version of the Extendable ears, then?"

"Yes, mum soon cottoned on to the fact that we were always listening where we shouldn't and confiscated them all, even after we made new ones," Fred confirmed. "So, we can slip this into that fellow's pocket and listen to who he contacts and report back to you."

George nodded in agreement. "The reason we were actually here, today, is that we were hoping to get to talk to Robards. We thought the Ministry might be interested in some of our products."

"I'm sure they will be," Harry smiled, grateful more than words could say that these two were in his life. They were cheeky and irreverent, but they were also amazingly practical. "You'll let me know, when you hear anything, right?"

"Of course we will, Harry," George said, rolling his eyes.

"Trust us," Fred said.

Harry gave them both a quick pat on the shoulder. "Thanks. I have to go and see Dean, now. I hope that that lot in there don't take it into their head to follow me," he said.

The twins locked arms and stood between Harry and the door to the Press room. "We'll protect you, oh Saviour," the both asserted in gruff, burly voices.

Harry laughed and waved them off, in a much better frame of mind than he had been a few minutes previously.


	7. Issues of Human Nature

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not mine, I just finish off JKR's story how I see it, for fun. Not profit, just for fun.

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**A/N:** In this chapter we see a little more of what type of person young Draco Malfoy is, both through the eyes of another and through his own actions. I hope you enjoy it and I thank you for the lovely reviews. Each and every one is totaly appreciated, I can tell you that. 

Jamie

xx

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Chapter 7: Issues of Human Nature. 

Deep in thought, Harry paused before entering the room he'd been told was the one Dean was recovering in. The nurse had also told him that Dean was doing well and should be released in a few days, once they were sure that he would be emotionally fit to handle the changes to his life.

What had happened to Dean was unfair. What had happened to them all was unfair. War made no allowances for what 'side' you were on. Pain, death or incapacitating injuries were indiscriminate of justice or morality. However, Harry allowed himself a moment of anger as much in guilt that he had not been able to achieve his goal faster in order to prevent outcomes like this, as in rage at Voldemort for being the source that enabled those like Fenrir Greyback.

He knew that the anger and guilt were futile. Neither of those emotions was going to assist Dean, now. Making himself take a deep breath, he opened the door and entered, willing himself to compose his features.

Dean looked up and smiled at Harry, who just stopped himself in time from gasping at Dean's ravaged face. Most of the damage had been healed, at least as well as it was ever going to be, but the scars were permanent. Obviously a claw had caught on the edge of his eye, as there was a scar that ran from the corner of his eye, down the length of his cheek to his jaw. The way it had healed had left him with a lasting droop from that eye.

There was a matching scar a few centimetres from the long one, inside, closer to Dean's nose. This one ended by splitting his lip. Harry couldn't help himself from looking at the scars intently. He hoped his face was impassive; his brain was recording every scar and imprinting it into his memory so that he would never forget the human face of the tragedies of war.

After a few moments, he blinked and smiled back at Dean, feeling a little guilty at having stared. The look in Dean's eyes though was far from condemning him for looking. And suddenly, Harry knew why Ginny loved Dean. He had a quiet strength about him; a gentle understanding of human nature in allowing, even expecting Harry to stand there surprised at the way he looked.

"Dean, mate, good to see you," Harry greeted him and stuck his hand out to shake.

"Harry, you too," Dean replied, shaking Harry's hand and indicating that he sit. "Ginny was here just before, but she's gone to get me something to drink. She's mothering me, but I don't need it."

"Women," Harry laughed back, although there had been a trace of frustration in Dean's voice. "How are you doing, anyway? The nurse says that you'll be released in a few days."

"I'm doing okay now, actually. It's just a face, Harry, and mine was nothing to write home about in the first place. A few scars here or there doesn't change who I am, does it?" He looked at Harry with a knowing look and Harry nodded, smiling in understanding.

"You don't mind if I look properly then?" he asked, indicating with his eyes, the scarring on Dean's face.

"Course not, Harry," Dean replied, turning his face side on to Harry, who was struck by how one side of Dean's face was perfectly formed and dark-skinned, as it had always been. It wasn't until you saw the other side that you realised just how much damage had been done by those ripping claws. "Ask me again in a few months if I'm tired of these being all people see when they look at me. I bet you understand that."

Harry nodded and shifted his line of sight to Dean's eyes. "I do understand that." He thought that Dean was handling things much better than Ginny had given him to believe and he was happy for that, though it did make him wonder if Ginny had been looking for an excuse as to why she didn't want to get back together with Harry. He didn't doubt for one minute that Ginny loved Dean, but he certainly didn't need her to look after him, as she had claimed.

With a small pang of residual hurt, he asked, "Do you remember what happened?"

Dean sighed and leant back on the pillows, a troubled frown on his face. "I do…though it was all so confusing. I remember seeing you go down, clutching your ribs, and I would have gone to you but a curse hit me and the next thing I knew I was flat on my back, looking up at the sky. I couldn't even move, except to twist my head around a bit."

He stopped and drew a deep breath. "And I hurt. Everywhere. There was yelling all around me and I saw Neville run past. He stopped and came back to make sure I was alive and he told me that you'd been fighting like someone possessed, but you'd gone down and he'd go to help you, then come back for me. He looked so proud, Harry," Dean smiled, remembering their friend. "He really came into his own didn't he?"

"He lifted me up off the ground and slapped Ron around a bit until he woke up," Harry said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "Then he told me to hurry up, too many people were dying."

"What happened to him, Harry? I asked and no one seems to want to tell me. They think I'm too fragile to handle bad news, but he was my friend, and I deserve to know." Dean's plaintive entreaty made Harry blink back the tears. He'd made himself not think about the way Neville died.

"After…after he set Ron and I on our feet, I turned to thank him and…I think it was painless. One of the Death Eaters hit him with some curse or other. He looked peaceful, still had that look on his face. That determined one that he used to wear back when I started the DA and he learnt that he could do all the spells after all." Harry smiled a little in remembrance. "But, he just wasn't 'there' anymore. I thought that it might have been a _Stupefy_ or something he was so still, and he looked just like he always did. But," Harry shifted uncomfortably, "of course, there was no pulse."

They both sat there quietly for a while, Dean's story momentarily forgotten, each in their own memories of Neville. Eventually, Harry smiled.

"He would have made his gran proud, and his parents."

"He would at that, Harry," Dean replied.

"Do you want to continue your story?"

Dean glanced up at Harry, nodding. "I remember lying there for what seemed like a long time and then a shadow loomed over me. I'll never forget him," Dean shuddered, "that look in his eyes like I was a juicy meal. I was so scared, Harry. Lupin was the only other werewolf that I'd met and he was no danger to anyone. But _him…_ They told me later who he was. I was positive I was about to die, but I couldn't move or anything."

Indeed, Harry was surprised that Dean had survived an attack by Greyback. From what he'd been able to ascertain, the werewolf had left many others dead in that final battle.

"So, what happened?"

"Malfoy happened, would you believe it?" Dean replied shortly and Harry started in surprise.

"What?"

Dean ran one finger along the scars on his face. "I know. Not something that anyone could ever have predicted. But he was…Actually," Dean laughed abruptly. "He was the same arrogant sod that he's always been. He stood there after Greyback had swiped me the first time and told him in no uncertain terms that I was a mudblood and that this was no time to be 'playing amongst the swill' I think were his words. Greyback growled and told Malfoy that he had better watch it himself as he was in no position to be ordering people about, but he left anyway after giving me one more swipe with those talons of his."

Harry was astounded that Malfoy had bothered to save Dean at all, let alone put himself in danger because of it. These things he was finding out about Malfoy were definitely at odds with the boy he had grown up with and hated at school. There were hidden depths to him and Harry felt compelled to explore them further.

"What happened then?" he asked.

"Malfoy just looked around to make sure that no one could see him, then he removed the spell so that I could move again. He didn't say much other than to get to help as soon as I could and then he took off. I thought for a moment that I should hex him or something but he saved my life; I just couldn't."

"You did the right thing, Dean. Much as I dislike Malfoy, you did the right thing," Harry said thoughtfully. "Will you speak for him at his trial?"

"Sure," Dean replied. "Happy to. Even though we all hated him at school…things are different now, aren't they? We've all had to grow up and I don't reckon he had such an easy time of it, either."

Harry nodded and they sat there together talking for a while longer, Harry asking what he planned on doing when he got out of the Hospital and was pleased that Dean had decided to make use of his artistic talent, joking that he didn't need his face to paint. It was while they were reminiscing about the banners Dean had made for the Common Room numerous times at Hogwarts that Ginny returned with the drinks. Not wanting to intrude on their time, or confront Ginny with her lie about how well Dean was handling his new situation, Harry took his leave from them. He had some thinking to do.

.o0o.

As Harry exited the ward and made his way to the entrance, he decided to Floo straight to the Burrow and see Hermione. Put her onto that reporter, Sully, from the Freedom Press. She would be in her element helping him.

When he arrived, it was to loud voices and an argument. Harry could hear Hermione and Ron's raised, cross voices, interspersed with Molly's conciliatory one. They were coming from the kitchen and Harry headed there, entering just in time to hear Ron.

"Harry isn't gay, Hermione, that's just, wrong and you should be ashamed of yourself for even suggesting that he could do something as vile as that!"

God, Ron could be a stubborn git at times, Harry thought, standing in the doorway, not participating in the argument, and blushing that he was the topic. Harry wasn't surprised that Ron seemed homophobic, but he did wonder how the topic of his sexuality came up. Then he saw the newspaper on the table and knew. Somehow in the few short hours since the interview that morning, there had been an edition printed and obviously some mention had been made of those personal questions he'd been asked.

Hermione virtually shrieked at him. "Ron! How could you? Why would it matter if Harry were gay? I'm not saying he is, just why would it matter?"

Harry didn't want Ron to answer that and so he made his presence known by moving over to the table to read what was obviously the article that prompted the discussion.

"Not that it's anyone's business, but no, I am not gay," Harry remarked dryly.

He picked up the paper giving Ron's open-mouthed face a stern look, and began to read. None of it really surprised him; he was used to being pilloried by the press and, in comparison, most of it was complimentary. Except the part where they gave legitimacy to the claims made by that reporter about his and Malfoy's relationship. Still, Harry could live with that. If being gay was the only thing they could think of to say about him, then he could quite comfortably laugh at that.

"Of course not, Harry, I never thought you were," Ron snorted. "It was these women that were all fluttery over that report.

"Oh, shut up Ron," Hermione snapped. "Fluttery indeed. You were the one to run off your mouth that Harry would never dare to prefer men to women. You were the one spouting all that rubbish about it being an abomination. I was supporting one's rights to love whomever they liked."

"I have to agree with Hermione, Ron. If I was gay, why would it matter to you?" Harry asked, perversely getting a bit of a kick out of seeing Ron flushing and stuttering.

"But I…we…I lived in the same dorm as you all those years and there was never any indication…you weren't looking at me like that were you?"

"Ron!" Harry yelled. "For crying out loud, I am not gay and even if I was, you're like a brother to me and that would be just so wrong. Now can we leave this piece of rubbish," he said tossing the paper down onto the bench, "and I can update you on everything that's happened since last night?"

"Of course, Harry," they both said and across the room at the sink, Harry saw Molly heave a sigh of relief.

He sat down and told them both about his day and what he had discovered. Hermione was delighted about the Freedom Press and had heard of it. Of course she had. She promised to contact Peter Sully soon and find out what the paper's agenda was. Harry smiled at her response; Hermione's dedication to something she believed in was fierce and if Harry knew her at all, he almost felt sorry for Sully and the staff at the Freedom Press.

Both Hermione and Ron were concerned however about the presence of the other man claiming to be a reporter and agreed with Harry that it was likely that Coghill was behind it.

"Harry, you should look at the wards on your flat," Molly added, as she placed plates of sandwiches on the table and left the room to do laundry. Harry was glad as he had things to discuss with the two of them that Molly didn't need to know about.

"I agree with Mrs. Weasley, Harry. You can't afford to take any chances; even now that Voldemort is dead," Hermione said.

A rebellious streak in him wanted to refuse to continue to let the fear of possible attack dictate how he lived his life. Hadn't he spent enough time looking over his shoulder while all manner of dark wizards came after him? He relented however, as something told him that in the light of recent events, he had committed himself to another cause that was escalating out of his control.

"Well, Fred and George are going to see who that so-called reporter reports to. If it is Coghill, then…I don't know that he's broken any laws, has he? But at least we'll know he's out to get me," Harry said. "Just another one to add to the list," he finished flippantly.

At the rolling of eyes from both Ron and Hermione, Harry changed the subject and bought up the most sensitive news about how Malfoy had saved Dean.

Ron, of course, was doubtful, though he didn't dispute Dean's version. There'd be no reason to give the credit to Malfoy if it weren't true. Both of them said that they planned on going to see Dean later on that afternoon.

The real shocker was when Harry told them that Malfoy had known and helped to discover the spell that he had used to kill Voldemort. The expected disbelief from Ron was covered by Hermione's brain going into overdrive.

"That actually makes sense of a few things, Harry," she said. "Those files you had about Malfoy showed that he wasn't suspected in taking part in any attacks on Muggles. So, what was he doing? He must have been working with Snape."

"Oh, come on, Hermione, just because his name isn't on those files doesn't mean he was working with Snape. You can't jump to conclusions like that," Ron snorted beside her and then rubbed his arm as she hit him.

"Then what was he doing, Ron?" she asked, "it's logical, it fits."

"Oh yeah?" Ron looked back at her with a disbelieving look on his face. "For a start…Why would Snape want Malfoy working with him? Malfoy would have been scum as far as V-Voldemort was concerned, seeing as he failed in his mission. Malfoy would be just barely tolerated by that whole bunch…why would Snape even trust Malfoy not to go to V-Voldemort with the knowledge of what he was looking for?"

Hermione sat back defeated by Ron's logical conclusion and very put out by it. Harry frowned, as Ron had a point. Although he believed Malfoy had helped Snape, there was no reason to believe him other than the fact that Malfoy knew what Snape had been looking for and Snape would not have trusted Malfoy with that information had he not been one hundred percent sure of Malfoy's allegiance.

"You'll have to ask Malfoy, Harry," Hermione said quietly beside him.

Harry nodded. "I know. There's still so much to ask him. Not the least of which is why he'd been allowed to stay away from the raids and why Voldemort kept him alive." He looked around at both of them. "Well, we both know that Voldemort didn't suffer fools or those who failed him easily. There must have been a reason he was allowed to live."

There was something niggling at the back of Harry's mind when he made that statement but for the life of him, the harder he tried to think about what it was, the less it seemed like there was anything there. Eventually, he gave up and decided that when it wanted to make itself known, it would.

.o0o.

Harry's 'social' commitments required his presence at a Ministry function that evening. It was a formal occasion and Harry had wrinkled his nose at the thought of formal dress robes, but he convinced himself that it was worth it. In fact, the more he was finding out about Malfoy, the more worth it it seemed to be. He gave himself a small sardonic grin, as he dressed, at the thought that Malfoy would actually be worth anything to him.

His mirror flirted with him, which was unusual, as he normally charmed it to shut up. He guessed that it just thought that he looked better than normal and was able to break through the charm, so he shrugged and laughed it off, straightening his tie and trying, unsuccessfully, to flatten his wayward hair. Even his mirror laughed at that attempt.

Picking up a pile of books, packages of food and some clean clothes for Malfoy, Harry Apparated to the Ministry, intent on seeing Malfoy for a short while prior to the official function.

When he took down the wards and entered the cell, he was met with a flurry of arms and a warm body pressing itself against his. Malfoy had thrown himself at Harry; wound his arms around his neck and was hanging on tightly. Harry could feel the trembling of his body where it was flush up against his.

"Whoa…hang on, Malfoy, what's going on?" Harry asked, surprised and standing awkwardly as he had his hands full of the things he'd been carrying and Malfoy hanging off his neck.

For a brief moment, Harry felt Malfoy's face pressing into his neck, before he pulled away and looked down at the floor. Harry could see by the look on his face that he was horrified at himself for what he'd just done. "S-sorry…I…"

"Malfoy, stop," Harry said firmly. "Take a deep breath and tell me why you're upset."

Harry wondered if someone had managed to break through his wards and hurt Malfoy again, or if…well nothing else could have happened since he'd been there this morning, could it? He watched as Malfoy did as he was told and then looked up at Harry, the almost frantic look replaced by one of wary relief.

"I…I'm sorry, Potter. I had a bad day…Do you think that you could ask the guards out there to listen and come when I call?" Malfoy started, and Harry looked confused and not a little suspicious that Malfoy wouldn't take advantage of it and call the guards making demands every five minutes.

"Why, Malfoy?"

"Because…" Malfoy blushed and looked ashamed. He opened his mouth as if to continue, closed it again defiantly, and turned and sat down on the chair, where they were both surprised by a rather loud gurgling from the direction of Malfoy's stomach in the silence. Harry went to laugh, but at the look on Malfoy's face, he stopped.

"What, Malfoy? You may as well tell me what's going on, or should I ask the guards?"

That seemed to decide Malfoy, as he frowned and looked back at Harry as if he felt betrayed.

"Fine. After months of near starvation, all that wonderful food you gave me last night decided that it didn't agree with my stomach…" Malfoy's face was as red as Harry had ever seen it. "I called them for a fucking long time…I couldn't do anything…" Harry could see the abject humiliation in every line of Malfoy's body.

Oh…

"Are you alright now?" Harry asked, deciding not to focus on what happened, but to make sure that Malfoy had been taken care of.

He nodded. "When they did come, they were most apologetic and they…cleaned me up and gave me something to settle my stomach," Malfoy continued, the tone almost grateful at the end.

"Good. I'm sorry; I had no idea that your system might not handle all that food."

"No, well you wouldn't, would you," Malfoy replied flatly.

"That still doesn't explain why you threw yourself at me when I came in," Harry asked gently.

Malfoy blushed again and bit his bottom lip for a moment before he tried a weak, cheeky grin, "Well, I could say that I missed you terribly and couldn't wait to get my hands on your body…" Malfoy looked him up and down. "And that might not be far from the truth, Potter, you look positively…not like something the cat dragged in today. Hot date?"

At Harry's look though, his smile faltered and he sighed. "It's not that far from the truth, actually," he smiled sadly. "I hate being in here…there's nothing to do, no one to talk to…I'm a prisoner, I can't go anywhere or do anything and yet I don't feel safe." Harry's eyebrows rose, he wasn't sure where this was going, so he stayed quiet and let Malfoy speak.

"You ask the guards…I was beside myself by the time they came, and not just because of the…mess…I…panicked…" Malfoy ran a thin hand through his lank hair, clearly uncomfortable with everything. "I thought that they were gone; that you had gone and I'd been forgotten about and left in this cell to…die." Malfoy shivered and put his hands under his armpits, sitting on the chair, looking at the floor between his feet.

"And then you arrived and I was so relieved… so…happy, I just forgot myself." Malfoy looked up and gave Harry a wry grin. "So, in a way, I really did miss you."

"I'm touched," Harry grinned back, trying to not make a huge deal out of Malfoy being so vulnerable. It was bad enough feeling like that as it was, let alone people bringing it up all the time and making such a big deal out of it. He was rewarded with a bigger smile and Harry thought that he looked a lot better when he smiled. "I'll tell the guards to keep a closer ear out for you, but if I hear that you have been abusing them, you'll be on your own until I arrive. Understood?" Harry said. Malfoy nodded. "And I won't leave you here," Harry added. "I'm trying to get you out, remember?"

"But if something happens to you, then…" Malfoy asked.

"It might surprise you to know that Hermione is on your side," Harry said, loving the amount of surprise he saw in Malfoy's eyes at that.

After a moment, a strange look crossed Malfoy's face before he gave a loud laugh and then kept laughing until there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked, smiling even though he had no idea why.

"I was just imagining propositioning Granger like I did you the other night…something entirely different for me, she would have been."

"Why, because she's a muggleborn?" Harry asked, voice dropping.

"Oh no," Malfoy hurried to correct him. "Because she is a 'she' and not a 'he'. I've not…no…Besides, she would have knocked me out, right? I still remember third year."

Harry nodded, remembering back to that year and how stunned he'd been when Hermione had slapped Malfoy. Harry stood to leave; he had this Ministry function to attend after all and he'd only dropped off a few things for Malfoy to keep him entertained and fed and clean.

He had one question for Malfoy, though, before he left.

"Apart from that, you would have propositioned her, though, if you thought it would help you?" he was thoughtfully curious.

There was a deep bitterness in Malfoy's voice and it was accompanied by a hard, cold…old look in his eyes, as if he had seen too much of the underbelly of the world…and he probably had.

"Oh yes…Potter, when you come back, I'll tell you the whole sordid story of how I managed to stay alive all year."


	8. Issues of Survival

**Disclaimer:** These characters are not mine, I really just like to make them play with

each other.

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**A/N: **Well in this chapter we start to get down to the nitty gritty. From here on in, the chapters might be a lot darker - especially the next chapter, but that will have appropriate warnings attached to it. Thanks for all the lovely reviews, I really do appreciate them. Enjoy this chapter. 

Jamie.

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Chapter 8: Issues of Survival.

Decked out in the robes Molly had laid out for him, Harry entered the brand new Grand Ballroom the Ministry had commissioned. Like many of the official places that made up the new 'face' of the Ministry, the room was ornate. It had a feel of an old Roman bathhouse Harry had once seen in an Epic theatre movie on television once, when the Dursley's had left him alone in the house during his childhood.

There were many soaring marble pillars, standing tall and erect, holding up the ceiling which was at least thirty feet high. The marble pillars were surrounded at their base by perfectly laid tables, the silverware glinting off the reflected light of hundreds of small torches adorning the walls, and huge crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Numerous carpet-clad steps rimmed tiled flooring sunken in the centre of the room, well polished but obviously charmed non-slip for dancing. That was something that Harry was definitely not participating in. If he was self-conscious at the thought of public speaking, he was certainly worse with dancing.

From the number of people already in the Ballroom, Harry thought he must be one of the last to arrive and as he waited for a staff member to announce him, he looked around at the assembled personage, wishing he could just slip in unannounced.

This was one function Harry would have attended even if he had not been required to be here under his agreement with Scrimgeour, however. For once, the Ministry seemed to be doing something altruistic. This Ball was to raise funds to establish Scholarships for schooling at Hogwarts and future professional training for children who had lost parents in the war. According to Scrimgeour, there were over a hundred children who had lost one or both of their parents. It was nice to see that something was being done about their futures.

Unfortunately, the cost alone of attending a function like this prohibited Harry's friends from attending, and he wasn't looking forward to spending the evening in the company of stuffy Ministry officials without his friends there to suffer along with him. He had tried to get them to accompany him, offering to pay for the tickets himself, but both of them refused point blank. He didn't blame them.

Eventually, Harry was announced and amidst all the clapping, the Minister himself came across to greet him, apologising for the delay and, as Harry thought scornfully, being terribly obsequious about it. He waved off the man's apologies, thinking he would rather listen to the man bluster pompously, than this.

A waiter passed by, floating a tray of drinks in front of him, and Harry chose one carefully as he tuned out the Minister's words, reminded by his very presence of why he had made the agreement in the first place. He was not looking forward to going back to see Malfoy later and hearing his story. Something about the way Malfoy had spoken made Harry certain that he was not going to like what he heard.

But he had no further time to dwell on that, as the Minister called his attention with some news of import.

"Just thought you'd like to know that Malfoy's trial will be two weeks from today, Potter," Scrimgeour said, a smug look on his face. Of course he would look smug; Malfoy would only be in the Ministry cell for another two weeks, and Scrimgeour had Harry's cooperation for the next month.

Harry looked at him, slowly nodding. Two weeks was not much time in which to come up with a way to prove Malfoy's story, and it was becoming clearer, the longer that he spoke with Malfoy, that he deserved recognition for his efforts at ending the war, and also for saving Dean Thomas.

"I trust I will have the use of the services of the Aurors until then?" Harry wanted confirmation, even though they had an agreement. Scrimgeour nodded.

"Yes, yes, we have already agreed to that," he said, magnanimously. Then someone else drew him aside, and Harry was left to his own devices. He wasn't all that comfortable in these sorts of social situations and so for a moment he just sipped at his drink and watched the crowd, looking for a friendly face and glad that despite his notoriety, these people, these 'moneyed' people, were a little less intrusive of his personal space. This was the sort of function at which, Harry was sure, Malfoy would feel at home.

Harry finally took a deep breath and headed for the nearest group of people he could see, which fortunately included the familiar face of Kingsley Shacklebolt. At least he was someone he knew of from the Order of the Phoenix and Harry had respect for the older Auror.

Shacklebolt shook Harry's hand and quietly, but sincerely, offered the support of himself and his team of Aurors in case Harry ever had need of them, and Harry smiled, glad he could rely on someone he trusted and respected. He relaxed a little then and found that Kingsley was an interesting conversationalist.

"I don't believe half the things the papers are reporting about you, Harry," Kingsley said, lifting his drink to his mouth.

"Good," Harry replied. "I must be getting used to it by now. I mostly just laugh at them. Unfortunately, some people put more stock in the printed word than what they see before their very eyes," Harry finished ruefully. He was still a little stung that Ron seemed eager to believe Harry might be gay from one thinly veiled accusation in a newspaper. Was it so bad that even a hint of homosexuality put such fear into Ron? He'd behaved almost as if Harry had announced he was going to be the next Dark Lord or something.

But then, Harry wasn't gay, and the fact that it had taken time and effort for Ron to believe him, was what Harry was annoyed over. Kingsley was nodding at Harry's earlier statement.

"Yes, over the years you have been subjected to some pretty outlandish gossip and rumours, haven't you?"

"Goes with the job, I guess," Harry tried to joke back.

"You did make one very interesting point in that interview, Harry," Kingsley was serious now. "Or rather you didn't, but that Peter Sully reporter did when he mentioned the use of _Veritaserum_. You do know the effects of that serum if it is forced upon someone, don't you?"

Harry nodded. He did know that more often than not, the invasion of the potion through resisting brain cells scrambled the firing of certain neurons and affected the person's ability to reason and function normally. He had heard of wizards who's functioning was so affected that they lived out the rest of their days in the Magical Maladies wards of St. Mungos.

"Well, Peter Sully and his fellow reporters from the Freedom Press have been campaigning to ban of the forced use of _Veritaserum_ on prisoners. The readership of the Freedom Press is not large, and because it is mostly politically radical, it finds it hard to get a foothold into the mainstream of our world." Kingsley paused and looked around the room at the assembled so called 'cream' of wizarding society. Harry's eyes followed his around the room.

"This particular issue is harder than most for them to garner some respect and support. The Minister has said on many occasions that only the guilty have anything to fear from the use of _Veritaserum_, " Kinglsey sighed. Harry spoke up.

"I've heard their logic. According to the Ministry, if you have nothing to hide, nothing to feel guilty about, then the use of _Veritaserum_ will not affect you. Therefore, if you refuse, you are guilty anyway, and so one way or the other the Ministry gets its…what? Revenge? Justice?" Harry speech had become more and more impassioned as he went on.

Kingsley motioned him to sit at their table as hundreds of house elves began to serve up their meals. Harry sat down next to Kingsley, who nodded in agreement with Harry.

"Yes, of course, they see that they win either way. But, that's not the only reason, Harry. Look around you. Look at how happy everyone looks now, notice the lack of fear on their faces, that slight worry that we would always carry with us. In the eyes of the public, the Ministry has done its job and incarcerated the Death Eaters, who by the very nature of that label are guilty. They don't care what happens to them, they only care that they don't have to worry about being afraid of them anymore."

Harry looked around and saw Kingsley was right. There was a light, joyous atmosphere in the Ballroom tonight. People's faces did shine with happiness and a complete lack of fear.

"But it still doesn't make it right, does it?" Harry replied softly, angrily. "Some of those they have in custody are only guilty of having a mark on their arm, Kingsley. A mark that was forced upon them. They're not guilty of anything. Using _Veritaserum_ on them…it sets a precedent. Next the Ministry could decree that anyone was liable to be taken in for questioning under _Veritaserum_ for any reason they felt like. If you refuse, you're guilty, if you agree you put yourself up to be asked any question they feel like, relevant or not. Everyone is entitled to his or her secrets, Kinglsey. It's just a huge invasion of people's rights to their own thoughts and opinions."

He knew all about people invading his mind, having his thoughts and dreams and memories raped when Voldemort had used him like that. What was to stop the Ministry going one step further and using the vulnerability of a subject's mind to implant thoughts, like Voldemort had done to Harry about Sirius?

And what about Malfoy? Harry was sure that whatever he had done to survive since he had left school wasn't nice, or pretty. At the very least, it was going to be something he would not want made common knowledge, fodder for the public canon – and whatever it was, didn't he deserve the right to some sort of discretion?

Harry realised that he was getting a little worked up over this, and his thoughts were getting more and more outlandish. He was sure the Ministry would not get to that point…but that was the way insidious evil crept up…gradually and slowly so that by the time you realised, it was too late. He felt Kingsley's hand on his arm and he gradually calmed himself down.

"Yes, Harry, we can all see the implications and there are many of us who don't want things to go down that path. A lot of us support the Freedom Press, but at the moment it has to be done quietly. We were very pleased when we heard you were going to make sure the Ministry obtained their proof in other ways. Perhaps with you as a mouthpiece, there might be some way we can do away with this. The trials start in two weeks," Kingsley informed Harry who shook his head in disgust, knowing Scrimgeour had made sure to put Malfoy up first.

"Yes, I know, Scrimgeour told me," Harry said, looking around at their dinner companions who all seemed to be involved in conversations elsewhere. It was quite safe to speak with Kingsley about Malfoy, as the Aurors that now guarded him, came from Kingsley's team and they were all bound by secrecy oaths. "Scrimgeour seems to have put Malfoy up first…but you know, the more I speak with him, the more I am convinced that he was just a pawn in the whole thing. Did you know he saved one of my friends, Dean Thomas, from being mauled by Greyback?"

Kingsley shook his head, but didn't seem surprised. "I didn't know that, but when I compare him to the other Death Eaters we caught, he just doesn't seem to fit. He's too young for one thing. What is he…your age?"

Harry nodded. "He does have the Mark, though, I saw it. He has a…story, too, but I can't say anything about that, yet." Then Harry stopped talking and began to eat. Kingsley didn't know about the Horcruxes, or Malfoy's part in finding a way to kill Voldemort, and he wasn't going to, just yet.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, Harry returning to reflect on what Malfoy's story could possibly be. He knew Ron would probably have another dig at him for being obsessed with Malfoy, but really, when had he ever not been? His thoughts were interrupted by the shadow of someone standing next to him. He turned and looked up and saw that it was Fred Weasley. Alone, dressed in decent formal robes and looking serious. Harry's smile died on his lips.

"Fred, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Just thought that one of us should attend this little shindig, Harry," Fred answered. "Not that I was going to bother you or anything, but that fellow…?" he left the rest of the sentence unsaid, and because he did, and his glance flickered to the others on the table, Harry knew exactly who he was talking about. The reporter from this morning's press conference. He nodded to show that he understood. Fred leant down and spoke softly into his ear.

"He reported to no one Harry. Said barely a word since this morning. But…he's here, tonight. I saw him skulking around one of the marble columns earlier. Just thought you should know."

"Thanks, Fred. I'll keep a lookout."

"Good-oh, Harry," Fred replied and disappeared back to his own table across the room. Harry's eyes followed his path to confirm in his head where he was sitting, and then returned to his meal with a frown. What did that bloke think he was going to accomplish by following Harry around? Most of his time was spent at the Ministry and The Burrow at the moment, only stopping at his flat to sleep. Still frowning, Harry looked up and around at all the guests, wondering if this man was sitting near him or was even a guest and… Disgusted with his paranoia, Harry sighed and finished his meal.

"Kingsley, what can you tell me about Coghill and Hoxley, those two Aurors that beat up Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Not a lot, Harry. They weren't on my team, as you know. I can get their files for you if you like," Kingsley relied, helpfully. "Why?"

"Oh, I'd just like to find out a bit more about Coghill. Maybe find out why he thought it was alright to treat Malfoy like he did," Harry replied, and added to himself, and perhaps determine where he lives and go and pay him a visit.

When dinner was over, all the appropriate speeches made, by the Minister, by C.O.W.S. (Care of Orphaned Wizard Schoolchildren), the organisation that planned to run the new Fund and by Harry himself, where he reiterated the things he had said in his talk to the Press earlier, Harry excused himself and went to find Fred. They met on the edge of the dance floor and were having a discussion about ways of finding what this reporter was up to, when a shift in the gleaming patches of light on the polished dance floor made Harry look up at the chandeliers.

The huge one above him was swaying from side to side. Harry's eyes widened and for a moment he just looked at it before his mind snapped back into working order. It had begun to shimmer as it swayed and Harry called a warning to Fred and threw himself at him, propelling both of them out from under the direct line of the chandelier, just as it seemed to loosen itself from the ceiling and come crashing down onto the tiled floor of the Ballroom. Right where Harry and Fred had been only a second before.

As the huge contraption hit the floor, thousands of shards of crystal exploded on contact and flew around the room. Harry had landed on top of Fred as he shoved him out of the way and he now used his back to shield him from the dangerous debris. Most of them bounced off, too rounded to do any more damage than bruise, but a few slivers found their way through Harry's robes and cut into his neck and shoulders.

There were screams and pandemonium from some of the women, as pieces of crystal found their marks on faces, or arms. Harry had no time to look at anyone else, only to cover his own head and wait. When it passed, he pulled his wand out of his robes quickly before climbing off Fred, who seemed to be uninjured, and standing up, looking around; wand ready, just in case.

Fortunately, the dance floor had not been full, as dinner had only just finished and perhaps the ladies were in the bathroom, powdering their noses before dancing the evening away. Which was lucky. Ladies robes were nowhere near the protection that the men's robes were. And as Harry looked around it seemed that most of the injured were the ladies and not the men, and that most of the injuries seemed to be surface cuts and bruises. Thankfully.

Harry stood there staring into the mess on the floor as if that would give him some answers.

Beside him, Fred whistled. "Thanks, Harry," he said.

"You're welcome, Fred. What do you think happened here?" he turned and met Fred's eyes, with a sense that he already knew the answer to that one.

Fred nodded. They were both on the same wavelength. "I've never known a charmed chandelier to fall down before, so I think it was tampered with. If he was here, Harry, I can't say that it was him, but if you're thinking what I am thinking, then…who else could it be?"

Harry was sure that the only thing he'd told Fred and George was that there was a leak in the Ministry and he wanted it to stop. But somehow, those two had put two and two together and come up with the right answer. Once more Harry marvelled at them both. They were born for this espionage caper.

"So, great, now I have someone else wanting to kill me. Thought I'd done away with the last psychopath that wanted to do that. You'd think they'd learn," Harry tried to make light of it, but he was shaking. This was now serious. Someone had just tried to kill him. Was he always going to be a target for someone with an axe to grind?

Wizards from Magical Law Enforcement arrived to take over the scene and guests were asked to move into the Ministry building proper. There were other huge chandeliers in the room that might also be unstable and so they had declared the new Grand Ballroom to be off limits. Through all the fuss in the aftermath, Harry had been pretty much ignored, even though he and Fred had been standing under the chandelier when it fell, and he assumed because of that, they considered this to be an accident. Possibly, there was no way in which to tell if the chandelier and the charms affixing it to the ceiling had been tampered with.

"Harry, you're bleeding," Fred's concerned voice came from beside him as he was searching the room for Kingsley. There was no sign of the Auror; he must be involved with official business concerning the fallen chandelier and he turned to look blankly at Fred. He couldn't feel any pain, so wherever it was, it was obviously only a tiny cut. He saw Fred looking toward his neck and he reached up cautiously to feel. Sure enough, his fingers touched something wet when they felt a place just below his jaw. Even then it didn't hurt much, so it must just be a nick. He shrugged.

"It's not much, don't worry about it," Harry said, thinking that he'd probably ruined the shirt on his formal robes.

"Tut, tut, Harry, this will only take a second," Fred remonstrated, and lifted his chin while his other hand used his wand to cast some simple healing charms.

"Thanks," Harry smiled, wearily. Today had been a rather busy day and it was beginning to take its toll on him. The adrenaline rush was subsiding, leaving him drained. Was it only this morning that he had given that press conference? It seemed like a lifetime ago, now.

And he still had to go and see Malfoy and listen to his story. Harry took a deep breath and sighed. What a pleasant thought that was.

When Harry lowered the wards and entered Malfoy's cell some time later, he saw the blond lying on his bed, nose deep in one of the books Harry had bought with him earlier. Malfoy looked up at Harry, an easy smile on his face, but when he saw the remnants of the blood on Harry's collar, his smile turned into one of those smirks Harry hated.

"What happened to you, Potter? Your hot date decide she didn't like the way you showed her a good time?"

"Shut up, Malfoy, I'm not in the mood. If you must know, someone tried to kill me, tonight," Harry replied, tiredly, sitting down in one of the chairs.

"They what?" Malfoy tossed the book aside and stood, moving to him quickly. He tilted Harry's head to one side, searching his neck for any marks. It surprised Harry, this concern from Malfoy, but he had to admit, he was gratified that he seemed worried.

"It's nothing," Harry said, moving his chin out of Malfoy's fingers, but leaving his neck open for him to see that he had been healed properly.

"What happened?" Malfoy demanded.

"Why does it matter what happened?" Harry asked. He really had no intentions of telling Malfoy what had happened, or that there seemed to be someone out to get him for his part in getting some justice for the way Malfoy was treated.

Malfoy looked at him for a long time, then shrugged and indicated Harry's arm with a look. "Did you get that seen to as well?" he asked, a small frown on his face.

"What?" Harry asked and lifted his arm. There on the cuffs of his robes was more blood. Bloody hell, Harry thought as he stood and took off the robes. Once they were removed, he could see that the blood started high up on one arm, near his shoulder. He was still not feeling any pain from it, but he undid the buttons on his shirt and removed it anyway, in order to ensure that the bleeding had stopped and to heal it.

"There's nothing anywhere else?" Harry asked, checking out his chest and arms, when he had finished healing his shoulder. Malfoy moved around him and then back to face him, a smirk on his face.

"Oh, there's plenty there, Potter," he drawled. "But no blood. Your unblemished and…surprisingly sexy back is all in one piece."

"Oh God, cut it out, Malfoy!" Harry exploded. "Enough with the flirting, already! I've had a really long, not very enjoyable day. I'm tired. Someone just tried to kill me and the last thing I need is to try and find the energy to keep from making a complete arse of myself in some sexually charged conversation with you."

Malfoy looked chastened and moved back, and Harry immediately felt guilty about yelling. "I'm sorry," he started, only to be cut off by Malfoy holding a hand up.

"No, it's me that should be sorry, Potter. You're right, I was being thoughtless." Malfoy's hand lifted to rub through his hair and Harry noticed it was shaking. He ignored it and put his shirt and robes back on, despite the blood on them. He felt better covered up and away from the scrutiny of those grey eyes.

"What is it with all the flirting, anyway?" Harry asked, finally. "You hated me in school and I haven't even seen you in over a year…or is this some sick joke you think you're playing on me?" With Coghill making the comment that he'd heard Malfoy was a nice piece of arse, then Malfoy's admission that he'd proposition Hermione if it would help him, and the constant flirting with Harry himself…was he missing something?

Malfoy sat in the other chair opposite Harry and sighed. "It's become second nature to me, Potter. I learnt how to… _pleasure_ them…" Malfoy snorted, "or else."

Harry's eyes widened. Truth be told he had thought it might have had something to do with Voldemort using Malfoy like that, but he said 'them'. Did that mean all of them? He swallowed, and then cleared his throat.

"Tell me what happened."

Malfoy looked back at him, a sudden flare of the old Malfoy that he'd known at school flashing across his face. The cold sneer of the mask of arrogance he'd worn constantly was there – for just a moment, and Harry suddenly realised that this was really the first time he'd seen it since he'd been in the cell.

Then, resignation took control and with a sigh he began to speak.

"I should have let him kill me," Malfoy began. "But I was too scared to defy him, too frightened, too hopeful that he'd still spare my mother. Too naïve." The shaky hand was threading its way through his lank, dirty hair once more. "He said I could still earn my keep, I might still be useful to him. I was so grateful to be alive, I agreed. I would have agreed to anything at that point.

He was in my house, _my parents house._ He just took it over… even before he killed my mother." Malfoy's face was a mask of pain, now, and it took a few moments before he started again. Harry sat there, silently. This was Malfoy's story to tell and to interrupt him and say the wrong thing, now, might not get it told at all.

"At first it was just _him_ and it was all I could do to stop from throwing myself out of the topmost window. I still don't know why I didn't – that self-preservation instinct, I suppose. For once in that monster's life he was as good as his word – I made myself available to him whenever and however he wanted, I took whatever pain and punishment he dished out, made myself a spectacle for them all to laugh at and be entertained by, and he fed me, allowed me to live."

Harry's throat constricted in pity. There had been so many times he had wished to see Malfoy brought down, humiliated, that arrogance shattered, but…not like that. No one deserved that. He opened his mouth to make some comment, a gesture of support, but Malfoy continued.

"He kept me very well, actually. Fed me up on healthy foods, allowed me my own clothes, and, apart from not letting me leave the Manor, I had my freedom. I wondered why and asked Severus one day. He told me Voldemort didn't think it was as much fun breaking someone who was already broken." Malfoy gave a short laugh at that. "Every day he'd break me, not that it took much, really. It must have bored him after a while, because then he began to let his Death Eaters have me and he enjoyed watching what they did to me a lot more." Malfoy looked away at the ceiling, deep in memories, Harry could see, as the frown and the pain of those memories was clearly visible. Malfoy looked gaunt and haggard, with dark shadows under his eyes. Harry had no idea how he could have stood being treated like that for so long.

"After a while, I learnt to play for them."

His voice was tight; matter-of-fact, devoid of much emotion. Harry wondered how he could be so dispassionate about it, so cold.

"Every shape and size - bald, hairy, gross and ugly, mean and cruel. It got so that I didn't even look at them anymore, I just played for them, fed their egos, told them how wonderful they were…" The bitterness was creeping into his voice, now, Harry heard and was pleased.

"They hurt me less when I made them feel good and powerful."

"So, why were you half starved when you were captured?"

Malfoy's eyes flashed. "Once Severus and I had found the spell and he sent it to you, I stopped playing for them. So they stopped feeding me and treating me well." He shook his head. "I was waiting for… You bloody took your time about using it on him, didn't you?"

Harry nodded. "I had no idea…"

"How could you have?" Malfoy snorted. "And it was none of your business anyway. I was sure that you…" He stopped, frowned and looked at the floor.

"What?"

"Nothing," Malfoy said, not moving his gaze from the floor, but shaking his head.

As Harry sat there, trying to absorb what he'd been told, Malfoy remained still, frowning at the floor. It was almost too much to take in after the day he'd had and he felt ill.

"I was sure that you would laugh and tell me I deserved it." Malfoy spoke softly, almost inaudibly and Harry had to stop and ask himself if he'd actually heard correctly.

"How could you think I would wish that on anyone?"

"Revenge," Malfoy said simply.

Harry stopped. Yes, there had been many a time when he had wished for some form of revenge on Malfoy, but not that. He'd wanted to beat the other boy black and blue, until within an inch of his life at times, but not that.

"Didn't Severus help you at all?"

"He did. He'd give me a few good strong drinks beforehand, heal me afterwards and make me sleep in his quarters when he was at the Manor. He said that at least if I was with him during the night, then I'd be spared any further activities."

"Did he…?" It was none of his business and he wasn't sure he actually wanted to know, but Malfoy got the message and looked up at him sharply.

"What do you think? Of course he did…but only when he had to in order to keep his cover." Malfoy gave a small smirk and sat back, crossing his arms. "He used to let me practice my flirting on him. I got so good at it that even he couldn't tell I was acting."

Harry was disappointed with that, and it took him a minute to work out why. Some part of him had enjoyed that Malfoy seemed to _like_ him. He had liked the attention. Malfoy really must be good, Harry admitted, because Harry wasn't even gay and he still liked the flirting.

He gave a sad little smirk in return. "Ahh, so all that flirting was you acting, I get it. You're very good, Malfoy," he said grudgingly.

Malfoy shrugged and looked Harry up and down. "Nope, I don't believe it was. You're too fit for it to be all an act, Potter." He gave him a quick smile and raised his eyebrow.

"If you're so good at it, I'll never know if you're telling the truth, will I?" Harry threw back, to be instantly regretful as he saw Malfoy's face crumple. A moment later the cool arrogant mask was back.

"Speaking of the truth," Harry said, changing the subject. "Minister Scrimgeour informed me that your trial will be in two weeks. They will be using _Veritaserum_ unless I can get the use of it banned between now and then.

Malfoy looked at him in horror. "Potter, you have to try! I don't want the whole world to know what I had to do to survive. That's…that's private and…oh God…" Malfoy began to shake. "The…the things I had to do…Harry, please don't let them." The pleading in his tone, completely wiped away any of the arrogance that had been lingering.

"I'm trying. I have the support of some good people and we're all going to be working on getting the Ministry to change its interrogation practices. In the meantime, is there anything you can think of that might be proof you were helping Snape find the spell? If we can find that, it will help clear you before they need to use it and they might decide it is unnecessary in other cases as well."

Malfoy shook his head, not comforted by Harry's assertion at all. Even Harry was not sure he could succeed. "It's our best chance, Malfoy. Can't you think of something?"

"No!" yelled Malfoy. He stood up and began to pace the small room.

"There must be something," Harry persisted. Didn't you two even talk about what you were doing?" Surely there must have been something Snape told Malfoy that could be some form of proof.

"No, not much. Once he told me what we were doing, it was safer not to speak too loudly or too much about it unless necessary. No matter how hard I tried to get him to talk to me more about it he just sat there, scribbling away in that damned diary of his!"

Malfoy stopped and swung around to look at Harry, the light dawning on his face, reflecting the same expression on Harry's face.

"He kept a diary, Harry!"


	9. Issues of Violation

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not mine.

* * *

**A/N: **There is a rather large warning on this chapter. The last half is a dream sequence (in Italics) that includes a rather graphic rape scene. The reason that it is included is that it combines a number of things that are going through Harry's head, both consciously and subconsciously. If you think you will be upset with this, or are underage, please move past it. 

Thank you also for all your lovely comments you've been leaving me for this story, I really love to get them and read your opinons.

Enjoy.

Jamie.

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Issues of Violation. 

It was with a sense of optimism that Harry returned home to his flat late that evening, or rather, the early hours of the morning. He and Malfoy had discussed further the possible ramifications of Snape having kept a diary. If he had, and if Harry could find it, and if he had written about Malfoy in it, then it might just be the thing that they needed to prove Malfoy's claim. So many 'ifs'.

At least it gave him somewhere to start.

Malfoy had given him specific directions on how to find Snape's house; else Harry wouldn't be able to see it. Spinner's End. He would go there tomorrow morning. Oh damn, he couldn't, he realised. He had, if he remembered correctly, to attend an opening of a new wing of St. Mungo's Hospital that would be specialising in post-war trauma. It was desperately needed and long overdue, really. Even during the war, there had been wizards that suffered from various mental illnesses caused by the stress of battle. The numbers had steadily grown and the hospital administration had decided on dedicating a wing to battle stress illnesses.

Spinners End would have to wait until he was free from that obligation. Now that he had something to work with, Harry was keen to get onto it and he was deep in thought about this when he entered his flat; so deep in thought that he failed to sense his wards letting him through. It wasn't until he opened the door and looked at the destruction of almost every piece of furniture in his lounge, that he realised his wards had been breached.

How they had been taken down he had no idea, but he stood in the doorway barely even thinking about his wards, too deeply shocked to do much thinking at all. Instinctively he pulled out his wand, though, and made himself move through each room to establish whether or not the intruder was still in the flat. Upon finding it empty and discovering that each room had been given the same treatment as the lounge, he stood amongst the wreckage and stared at it.

His mind was currently operating in only one dimension - the destruction of his possessions - but eventually he thought to re-cast his wards, and did so, adding an extra layer, just in case. There were things in his flat that were precious to him but the rest was just furniture that he had no real attachment to. So, once his wards were re-cast, he hurriedly moved to the bedroom and crawled under what was left of his bed. He raised a loose floorboard, thankful that the nails holding it had still been intact, and established that the things that meant the world to him – his father's Invisibility Cloak, the Marauders map and various photo albums - were all safe.

"Thank God, " he whispered into the empty room, as he sat on the floor cradling the small trunk to his chest.

What the fuck was he to do now? He had to get his thinking straight; he couldn't sit here on the floor all night. Staying in the flat was out of the question; he didn't even have an undamaged chair to sit on let alone a bed to sleep in. And he had no idea if it was even safe to stay here any longer.

As he calmed down, his mind began to function somewhat normally once more. Taking down his wards would have to have been done by a wizard with at least an Auror's level of training. His wards had been strong, but Molly had advised him only the day before to strengthen them. Even so, they weren't easy to take down. It would have taken a magic dampening spell of some magnitude to reduce the wards to the extent that they could be removed by anyone other than himself. Then Harry remembered that his mirror had been acting weirdly that morning, having been able to laugh at him through the charms he normally placed on it. Which meant that someone had been watching him. This was not a random attack; not with the magic required to remove those wards.

It wasn't common knowledge where he lived, either. Once he had destroyed the last Horcrux, he had refused to live under the protection of 12 Grimmauld Place any longer, and lived instead in an ordinary flat, allowing himself to be bait for an increasingly desperate Voldemort, in the hope of drawing him out of hiding. So, whilst he had not taken out an ad in the _Prophet_ to declare his address, for anyone who wanted to find him it would not have been all that difficult.

Harry stood and surveyed the wreck of his bedroom one more time before picking up odd pieces of clothing and putting them into a pile. He shrunk them and shoved them angrily into a bag that he'd found scrunched up under the overturned dresser. As he stalked through to the lounge, he kicked out at the pieces of a broken chair, fuming that someone had managed to drive him from his home. Had the audacity to come in and wreck his home!

Too angry to Apparate, Harry tossed some Floo powder in the fireplace, jumped in and snarled "Grimmauld Place."

When he stumbled out at Grimmauld Place, even more furious as he hated both Floo travel and this fucking house, he tossed his bag into a corner and stormed into the kitchen, looking for something to drink. Normally, he didn't drink anything stronger than butterbeer, but tonight…the last few days' events were crowding in on him and he needed to let go.

He'd let the Aurors know about the attack on his flat in the morning; there was nothing to be done about it tonight; it was well warded now. And if he didn't slam cupboards and break things he wouldn't wake Remus or Tonks, and he could deal with everything in the morning.

A few moments later, a bottle of fire whiskey and a glass found; he dropped onto a couch in the lounge and poured himself a long drink. He had no doubt who was behind all of this, though he had no proof of it. In fact, it could have been almost anyone with a grudge against him for killing Voldemort; surely there were Death Eaters out there they hadn't caught or known about – they were not infallible after all.

But as Harry drank, he knew it was Coghill. Coghill probably using Polyjuice Potion at the press conference, Coghill dropping the chandelier on him, Coghill trashing his flat…and it was all Malfoy's fault. He topped up his glass and downed it in one shot, which caused him to cough and splutter and his eyes to water. He ignored it and poured another, sniffing it before tossing that one back, too.

Bloody Malfoy. Everything had always been Malfoy's fault, he thought uncharitably. If he hadn't been such a git in school, he would not have got under Harry's skin so much, and if he hadn't done that Harry wouldn't have been obsessed with him in sixth year. Then he wouldn't have cared about getting answers from him when he was captured, he wouldn't have kept him separate from the other Death Eaters and he wouldn't have had to listen to his bloody sob story, feel sorry for the git, get pissed off that the flirting hadn't been real and decide to try and prove the stupid sod's innocence, almost get himself killed and had his flat wrecked and… _holy fucking hell, why was he pissed off that the flirting wasn't real?_

He dropped his head back on the chair and groaned. The fire whiskey was really getting to him. That's what came of not normally drinking strong spirits, obviously, he thought. Maybe he should just pack up and move to Australia and get away from all this. Wasn't he supposed to be able to live a quiet, normal life now?

He looked up, startled as a weight settled onto the couch next to him. Obviously, he had made too much noise after all and Remus had come to see what it was. Great. He loved Remus, he did. He counted him as part of his family, but just now the man's gentle, calming presence was not what he needed. He didn't want to feel comforted; he wanted to punch something. Preferably something with blond hair and sad grey eyes. Fuck.

"Well, you look like you've had a rotten day," Remus commented, eyeing the blood on his collar. "I heard about what happened at the Ministry Ball, I'm glad that you weren't injured."

"Luck," Harry replied, sniffing and pouring himself another drink, then holding the bottle out to Remus. At the shake of his head, Harry put the bottle between his legs and drank from his glass.

"Molly was looking for you earlier. I think she wanted to thank you for pushing Fred out of the way."

Harry merely shrugged. He wondered why Molly hadn't checked his flat; but then she might have and it still might have been in one piece when she did. Coghill could have trashed it long after the Ball, while Harry was chatting to Malfoy.

Remus didn't speak for a while and Harry finished his drink in silence, but he could feel the man's eyes on him, studying him thoughtfully.

Then he cleared his throat and spoke.

"I'm not even going to ask why you are here and not at home but I think you should stop seeing the Malfoy boy, Harry."

"What? Why?" Harry asked, confused.

"Obviously seeing him has upset you enough that you cannot even be civil to me. Now is the time for you to enjoy your life, not be held down in some petty argument with young Draco or the Ministry. He can bring you nothing but trouble."

Harry couldn't make up his mind whether to laugh or to explode. For a moment he just looked at Remus, wondering when he had taken it upon himself to think he could dictate what Harry could do. Yes, it was entirely bloody Malfoy's fault he was like this but things had reached a point where Harry couldn't back out now even if he tried. Not with Coghill after him. Not with his obligations to the Ministry for the next month and not with sad grey eyes locked up in a cell counting on him to help.

Harry took the bottle from between his legs and stood, a little unsteadily. He'd have to leave. Go to his room or go somewhere, anywhere away from Remus, or else he'd lose his temper completely.

"Don't tell me what to do, Remus," Harry warned. "You have no idea what's been going on the last few days."

"Sit down and tell me then," Remus replied, sternly.

Instead, Harry paced the room, frowning. Maybe it would do him some good to get it all off his chest. But there were things he just couldn't tell Remus, yet. And anything else would just make Remus more determined to stop Harry from seeing Malfoy, and while Harry was angry that his predicament was all Malfoy's fault, that didn't mean he was going to abandon him.

"No," Harry shook his head. "I appreciate the concern, Remus, but I can't…"

Just then the Floo roared to life and George stepped through, looking very relieved that Harry was there.

"Harry, thank God you're here," he said shaking the soot from his robes. "I've been trying to find you for ages and I was coming to wake Remus and ask him to help us look for you. We thought…"

"George, what's wrong?" Harry interrupted, worried about his tone.

"Fred told us about the Ball and what happened there and that…" he paused and looked at Remus, then back at Harry giving him a telling look "_he_ was there. So, I went and sat by the thing and listened and heard him."

Harry shook his head. This conversation was getting too cryptic; he could follow it but he'd had too much to drink to think logically. "Just tell me; it's alright, I'll have to tell him some of it, anyway, as I'll be staying here for the foreseeable future," Harry said of Remus, who was looking more than a little confused.

"Yes, please tell me what's going on," Remus agreed.

George nodded. "I was listening to the device we planted on that bloke at the press conference this morning – or was it yesterday morning? Anyway, it was him, Harry, I'm sure of it."

"How? Why? What did he say?" Harry barked out.

"He was rambling on about blasted Death Eaters not being worth the ground they walked on and how he was going to make sure that you paid for destroying his life. That you were lucky to escape the falling chandelier at the Ball and he'd get you another way. He muttered about dampening spells and wards…? We tried to find you, but mum had already said you weren't here or your flat and we had no idea where you could have been. We were worried that something had happened to you."

"That's him alright," Harry raged. "I was at the Ministry seeing Malfoy after the Ball and when I got home I found my whole flat ransacked. Totally destroyed. It must have been him. To take down those wards like they were, could only have been done by an Auror. Fuck," Harry yelled, pacing the room again and running his hand through his hair. "I knew it was him, but to have virtual proof…I'll let Kingsley know in the morning and he can run him down."

"I can get a copy of the recording sent to him, as well," George added.

Remus spoke then. "I think you had best tell me what's been going on Harry."

Nodding, Harry sat down to tell him what he could. About Malfoy being in the Ministry cell, about the abuse he'd suffered from the Aurors and the consequent firing of Coghill and Hoxley. He told him about the events of the press conference, the attack at the Ball and the ransacking of his flat, too, although he didn't tell either of them anything about Malfoy's story, or how he had helped the Order. Not yet. He just couldn't deal with more people telling him he didn't know what he was doing; not trusting him enough to do what needed to be done. You'd think that after all he'd done that someone would trust him to know what he was doing.

Even so, Remus still attempted to talk Harry out of helping Malfoy.

"Harry, have you forgotten who his father was? That boy is a Death Eater. Why would you let yourself get involved with someone of that ilk when you didn't have to?"

But Harry refused to budge; telling Remus Malfoy's story was not for Harry to do. It would be hypocritical of him to blab Malfoy's private business when earlier that night he had been arguing rights to privacy with Kingsley. "Just leave it, Remus. There are things I just can't tell you. Believe me, I would if I could."

Remus just gave him a searching look; one that Harry faced down. He persisted.

"Harry, look at the trouble you are in now because of that boy. You could have been killed tonight, who knows what this Coghill will do next or who he will recruit to help him. After all you've been through, you deserve a break. He's not your problem."

"Don't you think I've argued this with myself a hundred times?" Harry got up and stalked the room, ready to slam out of it. He'd had enough. Today had just been one big huge fucking mess and yes, it was bloody Malfoy's fault, but even if he could abandon Malfoy now, he was fairly certain that it wouldn't change Coghill's mind. That particular problem was going to follow him around until either Coghill was caught or Harry was dead. "Don't you see?" Harry yelled. "It doesn't matter what I do with Malfoy now, none of these other things are going to go away, so just lay the fuck off!"

"Harry, you know you can always count on Fred and I. Just let us know what you need," George chimed in, in an obvious attempt to calm the atmosphere.

"Look, it's really late and I'm entirely pissed off with today and as much as I love you both, I really just can't deal with this tonight, or I'll say things that I'll regret. I've had too much to drink and I'm too angry, so I'd appreciate it if you'd just let me go to bed now." Harry was almost gritting his teeth with the effort of holding his temper. "George, thanks for that. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Okay, Harry," George said and prepared to Floo back to the Burrow.

"Oh," said Harry, suddenly remembering. "Could you tell Ron and Hermione I need their help in the morning? I'll drop in about 9."

"Will do, Harry, sleep well," replied George as he tossed the Floo powder into the fireplace and jumped in, heading for home.

"I'm sorry, Remus. Tonight is just not a good night. I'll speak to you in the morning," Harry said, not looking at the man, just wanting to escape those sad, thoughtful eyes and go and plan a hundred different ways he could pay Malfoy back.

"We will talk about this some more. Your room is made up as always. You go and sleep and I'll see you in the morning."

Harry nodded. With a bit of luck he could be up and gone by the time Remus woke. He headed up the stairs to his room, flopped face down on the bed and screamed his anger into the pillow. Before long he was sleeping.

* * *

_Surrounded by hooded and masked figures, all sitting in the semi dark, he felt a small knot of tension in his stomach. His Master was choosing who he wanted to see play with the toy tonight and he really hoped that he would be the lucky one. He'd seen the whore give him a look earlier on in the day, and for as long as he could remember he had wanted to get his hands on him._

_The Dark Lord looked around at his assembled Death Eaters, scrutinising them closely. None of them were identifiable as they wore the mask of the follower, but somehow his Master knew who was who._

_Sitting at his Master's feet was the toy. He was blond and naked, adorned in only a black leather collar and restrained by a chain. His eyes were downcast, implying obedience and respect if not abject defeat, as his shoulders were set and his neck stiff and proud. He made an extremely enjoyable toy; one that his fellow Death Eaters took great delight in breaking as he broke so prettily. Though, lately the toy had learnt a few things and now, when he was broken, he asked for it._

_Feeling his Master's slitted eyes land on him, he felt a moment of elation, which was quickly doused when that gaze no longer singled him out. He shifted uncomfortably in frustration, careful to hide it deep in his thoughts lest his Master see into them and punish him for having the temerity to question his choice._

_Then, a moment of complete triumph, as again his Master's eyes fell upon him and nodded, saying in his hissing voice. "You may have the toy tonight." The toy's chain was yanked and the blond stood quickly and looked toward him, vacant disinterest the only emotion visible on the pale face._

_As the toy had no way of knowing his identity, he stood and removed his mask, leering at Malfoy, running his eyes the full length of the toy's body, centering on the boy's groin and licking his lips. The toy would be his to do with as he pleased, and tonight his pleasure was to watch the toy perform for him, before he took him. And everyone else should have the pleasure of watching, too, he thought and cast the spell to raise the lighting over the centre of the room. Now the pretty thing would be the centre of attraction._

_"Come here," he said, raising his eyes to the now interested grey ones of the toy. He watched as the slender body took smooth, graceful steps towards him, noticing that he was clean and unmarked, apart from the black brand on his arm. Someone was taking care of the toy then, healing him and preparing him for his nightly activities. He nodded; that was as it should be, there was no fun in playing with broken toys. The fun was in breaking them, always to be discarded once broken._

_When the blond was standing in front of him, looking directly into his eyes, he reached out and slapped him hard across the face, satisfied when he saw a vivid red hand print appear on the boy's skin. "What makes you think you can look me in the eye? You do not deserve that honour. Keep them lowered until I tell you otherwise."_

_He noticed a slight pursing of the lips and smiled inwardly. The boy had some fight left in him, after all. He was a survivor, then. This made him smile and consider how much fun it was going to be watching this pretty blond shatter._

_"Dance for me. Show me you want me. Make me want you," he said._

_"May I speak, Sir?" Malfoy asked, his eyes downcast and his voice respectfully soft._

_"You may."_

_"Thank you," Malfoy said, and ducked his head in thanks. "Would Sir please allow me the honour of removing his outer robes?"_

_"You may."_

_"Thank you, Sir."_

_Small hands reached tentatively to the collar of his robes and began to undo the buttons one by one, occasionally flattening the palms of his hands over the cloth-covered chest. All the while, Malfoy spoke softly, almost purring, keeping his eyes on the robes and what his hands were doing. "Sir is so strong under these robes. I can't wait to see you without them."_

_The hands worked the unbuttoned robes aside and Malfoy moved closer to him to push them over his shoulders, deliberately handling his biceps, feeling their strength._

_"So strong, Sir," Malfoy cooed, fluttering his eyelashes and licking his lips._

_He watched this display in amusement, not believing a word of it. The toy was very practiced now, and had learnt that the pretty words and flattery meant that he was treated better._

_Ha!_

_Malfoy's hands were on his shoulders now, fingers digging in lightly to his skin. "Please sit, Sir," Malfoy said. "I want to entertain you." He acquiesced and let Malfoy push him back down into his chair. He wanted to see Malfoy's show from a comfortable position._

_"Hurry up, toy," he snapped, reminding Malfoy who was in charge here. Malfoy nodded, still standing right in front of him, eyes lowered but gaze resting on his face, where cool hands were caressing his cheek._

_"Sir is very beautiful," came the purring, sultry voice and he felt the hands sliding down across his cheeks to his neck and shoulders where they stayed. Malfoy began to sway his hips, pale, thin thighs brushing his knees at each movement. The bare legs spread and Malfoy gyrated forwards to be straddling his thighs, and the hands moved to the front of his shirt, undoing the buttons and pulling the fabric open to reveal his chest, allowing Malfoy's hands to rub across bare skin. He watched as the boy's eyes fluttered with the skin contact, and then let his eyes take in Malfoy's cock, which was still flaccid. That would be the acid test._

_He'd rarely seen the toy become hard when he'd been required to entertain. Occasionally with Snape and once with his father but those times were few and far between. Not that he cared about the toy's pleasure but it would be so much better to break a willing, begging, wanton toy. Fuck, now he was hard as a rock._

_Malfoy's hips were still swaying to some internal music, knees bent and arse brushing the tops of his thighs. Hands were working open his trousers and giving his cock room to move. One cool finger stroked its length and Malfoy cooed delightedly before stepping back off his lap._

_The dance with the grinding hips continued but now Malfoy's hands were rubbing themselves all over his own body, starting at his chest, stopping to twist his nipples. They kept going, brushing over a taut abdomen before bumping over the swaying bones of his hips and down his thighs. Nimble fingers seemed to dance around his balls fondling them and making his cock twitch, though it looked only mildly interested in proceedings._

_He watched as those hands left Malfoy's balls and trailed themselves back up his torso and over his head, entwining the fingers of his hands in the air and swaying his entire body seductively. The blond's eyes were closed, his head angled to the side and the picture Malfoy made did nothing to dampen his own erection, only enhance it. The toy was very good._

_"Turn around and let me see your arse," he commanded Malfoy brusquely, as he stood to push his trousers out of the way, readying himself for ramming into the pretty toy._

_Malfoy did as he was bid and turned, slowly, seductively, whispering, "I am here for your desire only, Sir. You and you alone are the one that keeps me awake at night, dreaming of you possessing and owning me."_

_There was not a catch or a tremor in Malfoy's voice and if he hadn't known better or was weaker in character, he might have believed the pretty words. He watched, arousal drumming in his ears, as Malfoy thrust his arse out and rolled his hips, still swaying to imaginary music. Watched as he bent forward, displaying the daintiest puckered hole. There really was someone taking good care of the toy._

_Oh, this was going to be a wonderful defilement._

_As Malfoy continued to undulate in front of him, he reached forward and grabbed the toy's hips, digging in his fingernails and ignoring the sharp hiss._

_"Bend over and stay there," he demanded in the same brusque voice._

_"Of course," murmured Malfoy and did as he was bid, leaving him open to anything that he could think of to do to him. For now, all he wanted was to watch that pretty hole clench in fear and so he reached to his trousers and removed the belt. Wrapping it around his hand a few times, leaving the buckle on the end free, he told Malfoy not to move, then raised his hand and bought the belt buckle down with a loud crack on his bare bottom._

_Impressively, Malfoy didn't stumble or fall, merely clenched his buttocks and gasped with the pain. It was lovely to watch and so he did it again and again and again, really enjoying how the buckle was leaving deep red scratches in the skin that sported drops of beautiful crimson blood._

_He would have kept going but Malfoy's knees were starting to give way on him and he didn't want his toy incapable of performing, so he stopped, reluctantly._

_"Stand up and turn around," he ordered._

_He was most gratified to see that Malfoy's lips were swollen, perhaps from biting them to stop his screams. Malfoy's eyes, however, were looking at him adoringly and he was impressed all over again, though he did not for one minute believe the blond actually meant it._

_"I thought I demanded that you show me you wanted me," he said, eyes traveling down to Malfoy's groin. "You're not hard, toy."_

_Malfoy lowered his eyes, coyly. "I was waiting for Sir's permission."_

_"Liar," he replied, reaching forward and grabbing a handful of blond hair so silky and soft that he thought for a moment his hand would slip all the way through. But it didn't; he got a decent purchase on it and yanked the toy closer, snarling into his face._

_"Get down on your knees and suck my cock. If you use too many teeth, I will destroy you. When I want you to stop, if you are not hard and begging me for it, I will hurt you so badly you will wish you were dead. If you had any self-respect you would wish that already. Now, down!"_

_With that he gave a sharp tug on the blond hair and Malfoy fell to his knees. "Thank you, Sir, I was waiting for you to give me permission..." but he was tired of the words coming out of the whore's mouth, so he cut them off mid sentence as he filled it with his erection, instead._

_Malfoy groaned a little and didn't appear to need much encouragement to take him all the way in, the convulsive gag reflex massaging him, forcing a small whimper from his throat. "That's better, toy," he said, gripping Malfoy's hair tighter and holding his head steady as he pushed his hips forward into his face._

_He registered that Malfoy's hand had slipped to his own groin and was stroking himself in time with the thrusting into his mouth. There was something so potent about the power he felt running through his body right at this minute. It was gathering in his groin, building into an orgasm, but he held it back, he didn't want to come in the toy's mouth. Instead he yanked on Malfoy's hair and pulled him to his feet, noticing with smug satisfaction that the toy was now as hard as he was._

_Obviously, the whore toy liked it._

_"One might think that you like me, toy," he said, silkily. "Now turn around and get to your hands and knees."_

_The hungry smile that lit up Malfoy's eyes as he obeyed was very gratifying and again, if he had not seen the toy flirt and play all the other Death Eaters, he might have believed it was all for him. That reminded him that all his fellow supporters were watching him and he looked around at them, seeing the avid attention they were paying to the show, and also noticing that more than a few of them had their hands under their robes and were surreptitiously jerking themselves off at the spectacle._

_He smirked and knelt down. He pried Malfoy's buttocks apart with harsh fingers and rubbed the tip of his hard cock over the tiny hole, smiling at the clenching response. Without any warning he plunged himself into that hole, forcing aside the very muscles that had held it perfect and unmarked._

_Malfoy screamed at the intrusion but he ignored him and laughed at the trembling body he held under his grasping, stabbing fingers, and at the burning heat around his cock. He used his hands to push Malfoy's body forward, so that his dick dragged partially out of the pulling tight hole, then with a snap of his hips and a yank of Malfoy's body he slammed them both together again, exulted now as Malfoy began to sob._

_"You don't sound too happy now, toy," he ground out as he pistoned his hips back and forth, crashing into him with as much force as he could muster and loving it._

_"No!" Malfoy cried. "I am crying because… it's such an honour to have S-sir… I Oh God /I …"_

_"Liar," he hissed once more, and yanked the toy's hair so hard that Malfoy's body was brought up on his knees. As he continued to thrust angrily into him, he spat, close to Malfoy's ear. "Never lie to me."_

_Malfoy's head dropped back on to his shoulder and his body began to rock, moving with the hard vicious thrusting inside his now unresisting body, and his tears dripped down the sides of his face. "No," he whispered, "For all the men I've been made to be with, I only ever wanted you."_

_He growled furiously, a piece of him wanting to believe Malfoy but he knew it was all just part of his act, so he cruelly bit down on the toy's shoulder, grinding his teeth into the skin. This made Malfoy whimper and grab his cock, stroking it feverishly. "No," he cried. "I only ever wanted you, Harry."_

* * *

Harry woke with a scream on his lips. He threw himself off the bed, hitting the floor with a thud, his heart pounding, thumping in his head and making it hard to think. Overriding all that was a slick nausea rising in his gut. How could he… Oh shit, how could he…? Fuck! 

He stumbled to his feet and tried to make his way to the bathroom, but his legs gave way and he fell to his knees, eventually crawling, sick and disgusted with himself, to the bathroom. He only just managed to lean his head over the toilet bowl before he was violently ill.

When he was done, he slumped to the floor, shaking and feeling sick and achy all over. He never even gave a thought to the fact that he was probably hung over, he was too sickened by the details of his dream to think of anything else. He would never… No, no matter how mad he was at Malfoy, he would never, ever, do _that_ to him. How could he have dreamt that? To have said and done those things… His stomach heaved again and, barely able to lift himself to the bowl, he was thankful that there was only bitter drool to bring back up. Tears smarted in his eyes as he dropped limply back to the floor.

How was he ever going to face Malfoy, now?


	10. Issues of Morality

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine and no profit is being made from this. I do this for my own enjoyment and no offence is intended.

Authors notes: Finally, at long last the next chapter is here. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this one, too.

Jamie

* * *

Issues chapter 10. Issues of Morality.

Some time later, while he was still collapsed on the floor, Harry heard a soft knock on the bathroom door.

"Harry, you in there?"

It was Tonks, and Harry silently groaned. He had hoped that he might be able to escape the house undetected, but he must have been sitting here wallowing in his guilt and nausea for longer than he thought. He really had no idea of the time. The only reason he even knew it was morning was due to the light shining through the bathroom window.

Wearily, he dragged himself to his feet. "Yes, Tonks, I'll be out in a minute," he called.

"Gotcha Harry. I'll have breakfast ready for you when you come down."

As Harry looked at himself in the mirror and saw what effect the drinking and the disturbed sleep had on him, he realised that the last thing his stomach wanted was food and that he'd need to clean up – a lot – before he'd be able to get away without some explanation of his previous night's behaviour.

Ten minutes later, stomach still twisted in knots but feeling much better physically than he had been, Harry walked into the kitchen to see Tonks and Remus seated at the table eating bacon and eggs. He'd smelled them on the way downstairs and even though his stomach protested, he thought he should try to eat. He had a long day ahead of him and he'd need something solid in him.

Tonks greeted him with "Morning, Harry. Sit down and I'll dish you up some breakfast."

Harry just nodded and sat, purposely not looking at Remus. But he could feel the man's stare boring into him and, from the corner of his eye he could see the stern expression.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Not long after eight," Remus said.

"Thanks." There was some relief at the hour. Not much, as despite it giving him time for a shower, he'd also have time for the discussion that he was sure Remus would insist upon. How would they feel if he told them about the dream he'd had? The things he'd done in the dream? They'd tell him it was just a dream and it meant nothing; which was true in itself but didn't explain why he'd had it.

They sat silently then, neither seemed willing to open the discussion. Harry knew he should apologise for his outbursts the night before as he knew Remus was only looking out for him but that little rebellious part of him was still annoyed that the man had acted like it was his job to tell Harry how to live his life. Then Tonks placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him and he began to eat, not because his stomach wanted food but more because it gave him another chance to not speak.

Of course, now that he'd had his little bad tempered episode and _that _dream, he realised that the situation he was in at present was not Malfoy's fault at all. Harry had made his own choices about whether or not to get involved and he had chosen to do the right thing. Begrudgingly for sure but freely nevertheless. And whilst he felt a lot calmer about this realisation, he wasn't sure if it was the guilt over the content of the dream that had bought him to this much more logical conclusion, or whether it was his own innate nature that had made him see sense.

After pushing his bacon around the plate for a while, occasionally taking a mouthful but not really enjoying it, and still feeling Remus' gaze on him, he finally put down his knife and fork.

"I'm sorry for the way I behaved last night," he said sincerely, sighing. "I was letting everything get to me and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"Apology accepted, Harry." Remus nodded. I have to apologise to you, too. I hope you don't mind but I talked with Dora and she made me see that I was wrong to try and tell you to do something that is against your nature."

Harry looked at him sharply; he hadn't been expecting Remus to apologise. "No, I don't mind Tonks knowing what's going on."

"I still want to know why you're helping young Malfoy," Remus said and Tonks agreed.

"Yes. I do, too. I've seen my cousin's file and he's a Death Eater and you always hated him. I don't see why you want anything to do with him."

There were four people left alive in the world that knew about the spell that killed Voldemort. Just himself, Hermione, Ron and Malfoy and there didn't seem to be any reason why he couldn't tell Remus and Tonks that Malfoy had helped Snape find the spell, but the secret had been kept this long and successfully at that, and he just had a feeling he should not divulge anything about anything yet. It could possibly be that he just didn't want to see the looks of disbelief on their faces. Without proof, they'd think he was ready for the psych ward at St. Mungo's

"Nothing has changed from last night; there are still things I just can't tell you yet. Can you please just trust me?" he pleaded. "He's not what you think," he added, knowing it would probably spark off more questions.

Silence was his answer and he looked between them both as they exchanged glances and Harry wondered if they could read each other's thoughts. Tonks gave Remus a stern look and the man subsided and sighed.

"Alright, Harry. You know we trust you, but you need to come to us if you need help. You don't have to do this on your own. I'm sure Dora would help."

Tonks was nodding from across the table. "Harry, Draco is my cousin and while I might dislike the little sod, he is family and if I can do anything to help, then I'd be happy to."

"Actually," Harry said putting down his knife and fork. "There might be something you can help me with. What do you think about the forced use of _Veritaserum _on prisoners?" Before he asked for any assistance from Tonks, he needed to know her views – her unofficial ones.

He caught the quick look between Tonks and Remus, and noticed how she bit her lip, obviously debating with herself before answering. "I'm not going to tell anyone, Tonks," Harry reassured her. "They're planning to use it on Draco at his trial, and I don't think it's right. I want to try and stop them, somehow."

Harry didn't even notice that he was now calling Malfoy, Draco.

Tonks gave a relieved nod. "I agree with you, Harry. Remus is not so sure, but I suspect that attitude comes from spending most of his life trying to prove to the Ministry that he's not a threat or a danger. He'd take any avenue offered in order to prove that."

"It's not that, Dora, stop putting words in my mouth," Remus exclaimed. "I just don't see anything wrong with using it to ensure that people are not a threat to our society. But it should be a choice. I don't think it should be forced except under extreme circumstances."

"And you think Draco is extreme circumstances?" Harry asked, frowning.

"I don't know, Harry. Perhaps."

"He was a kid, Remus. A scared kid trying to save his family from a monster. Faced with Voldemort holding that sort of threat over Tonks, wouldn't you do the same? And he was only 16 years old. How is a 16 year old expected to fight off someone like Voldemort?"

"You were," Remus replied softly and Harry shook his head.

"That's hardly the point. I had help; he had no one. Worse than that; he'd have had to fight off every person in his family as well. I can't see myself being able to do that. Remember Wormtail? How old was he when he betrayed my parents?"

"We're getting off track here," Remus said, a dark look on his face. "If Malfoy has nothing to hide, then it shouldn't matter if they use _Veritaserum_ on him."

"He has a right to his own privacy, Remus," Harry argued. It felt like he'd been through this all before with Kingsley the previous night and he knew that there were so many people who held the same views as Remus.

"But don't you see, Harry, that people are scared that there might be another Dark Lord and they need reassurances that anyone who is found not guilty, _is _actually not guilty and not just a good liar."

"Let me ask you something, Remus," Harry said trying to explain his point. "When you were undercover, running with Greyback and his pack, did you do anything illegal?"

"What?" Remus asked, shocked, his face paling. "Harry, you have no right to ask that question. Whatever I did was on the Order's behalf and was necessary to the war effort."

"Stay with me on this, Remus. Would you like it to become public knowledge?"

"Of course not!"

"What would happen if you found yourself up before the Wizengamot on a trumped up charge for something fairly petty? Under the laws we have now the Ministry could, and probably would in this current climate, insist on using _Veritaserum_ on you. They would be within the law to ask you any question they liked."

Both Tonks and Remus were pale now. But Harry continued. "Using _Veritaserum_ is not the problem, it's the latitude given to ask any question they like, for no reason at all, on matters that have no relevance to the charges whatsoever. Now both you and I know that there were reasons for what you did, and in the end it probably saved a lot of lives but the morality is greyed because it was outside the law and outside Ministry approval."

Remus was silent, his jaw set and, for a moment, it looked to Harry like he was going to argue. But then suddenly he stood up pushing his chair back forcefully and left the room. Harry followed him with his eyes before turning to Tonks who was looking stricken.

"I'm sorry, should I go after him?"

"No, Harry," she said, shaking her head. "I think he's just beginning to see your point. He carries a lot of guilt inside him for things he was forced to do during the war. On Dumbledore's orders at first, and then when you took over he just carried on. I don't think he ever spoke to you about the things he saw…or did."

"No, he didn't," Harry replied.

"Greyback was…he was despicable. Remus should be given a medal for what he did, for the lives he saved, talking that monster out of killing little children. Instead, if anyone finds out, he will be persecuted and hunted down." Tonks slammed her hand down on the table and stood up, collecting the plates. It was an indication of her agitation that she barely made it to the sink with them before they slipped from her hands and into the soapy water.

Harry felt just awful now. He'd known that Remus had infiltrated the pack and had managed to let them know Greyback's whereabouts. He even knew that Remus had been instrumental in turning a number of them away from Greyback but he'd never really known what it was that he'd had to live through.

After a few minutes, Tonks turned back to Harry and took her seat again. "What do you need from me, Harry? I'll help any way I can."

center .o0o. /center 

By 9.30, Harry had arrived at St Mungo's along with Ron and Hermione for the opening of the new ward. He'd bought them both up to date on what had happened since the last time he'd seen them, except for the way Draco had managed to stay alive. They'd fire-called Kingsley about the break in at his flat and the information on Coghill that the Weasley twins had obtained, and he informed them that he'd received the recording already. After arranging to meet them at St. Mungo's, along with some additional Aurors in case Coghill decided to show his face again, Harry let Kingsley know that he'd spoken to Tonks and she was willing to help them obtain information about the people that had lost brain function after the forced use of _Veritaserum_. Hermione had spoken to Peter Sully and asked him to be at the ward opening so they could meet after the function. With all the fire-calling, Harry wished that wizards would take advantage of Muggle technology and use mobile phones. He thought he might get onto the twins about developing something similar that wizards would use.

Harry smiled to himself; he rather liked the team he had working with him again. They'd grown used to working with each other during the war and had saved Harry a lot of stress by being efficient, almost reading his mind at times. That's not to say that they didn't argue. Neither Ron nor Hermione thought twice about disputing something they weren't sure of and that was possibly the greatest compliment and display of trust that Harry knew of. For when they agreed with him, Harry knew that he had their complete support and would work as hard as he did to accomplish their task.

When Scrimgeour arrived amidst a flurry of reporters and flashing cameras, ordering Quick Quills to take notes, Harry could barely refrain from sneering. It was all so much of a farce, a sham for the public. Harry could understand the need for public authority figures to be in the public eye at this time, he just couldn't see that sweeping things under the rug, lying to people, was the way to form the basis of a society at peace. Had the Ministry learnt nothing?

Harry's hand was shaken numerous times and he'd been photographed with the Minister what seemed like a thousand times (too many) in various poses at the ribbon cutting ceremony for the ward opening. He made his speech, all the time keeping careful watch on the crowd in case Coghill showed up again and noting that Sully was at the back in the audience. They acknowledged each other with a short nod and Harry returned to finish his speech, reiterating that persecution was not the way to bring lasting peace.

After the formalities were completed and the bright red ribbon opening the new ward was cut, Harry extracted himself from Scrimgeour's attention and joined Ron and Hermione who were chatting with Peter Sully.

"Mr. Sully, nice to meet you finally," Harry said, extending his hand. A strong grip responded and intelligent blue eyes smiled at him, assessing him with a searching look. He was a fairly non-descript man, apart from his eyes, being of average height and build, with short black hair.

"Mr. Potter, the pleasure is all mine. Call me Peter, please." Harry was glad to note that the tone wasn't the gushing one he often faced but seemed genuine. He smiled in return.

"And I'm just Harry," he said.

"Harry." Peter nodded. "Your friends here suggest that we may be able to help each other out," Peter continued. Harry was pleased. Peter Sully appeared to be a no nonsense type of person that got straight down to the problem.

"Well, Hermione has been really impressed with the paper you work for," Harry said, turning towards her and smiling softly. Hermione had that look in her eyes when she had a new problem to solve, a new situation to research and, unless Harry was very much mistaken, Hermione had probably found her calling in life.

She was nodding. "I most certainly have been, and I want to talk to you about a most terribly neglected section of the community, kept as slaves –"

But Harry and Ron both interrupted Hermione before she could get on her high horse about house-elves. "I think he has enough to be going on with, Hermione," Ron said tactfully, which was surprising for Ron who was not normally known for his tact. "One thing at a time, yeah?"

Harry smiled at them both; they really complemented each other in the best ways. Hermione was the loud one with the analytical brain that thought things through at a thousand miles per hour but Ron was her rock. He was the one who would always be there to catch her if she fell. When Hermione gave Ron a reluctant nod, Harry turned back to find Sully scrutinizing them both, clear interest on his face.

"You asked me about the forced use of _Veritaserum _at the press conference. I want to try and stop it." Harry paid him the respect of also getting right to the point. There seemed no need for social pleasantries here.

Sully studied them all for a few more moments before seeming to make a decision. "Two years ago, my brother was forced to take _Veritaserum _while being questioned for the distribution of illegal potions. He'd already admitted to distributing them and was prepared to accept his punishment, which at the time was three months in Azkaban. The Ministry said that they required him to provide the names of the potion makers; which he refused to do. He feared reprisals if he revealed those names."

Sully stopped speaking for a moment; his eyes becoming hard as he related his story. Continuing, he looked Harry directly in the eyes and said "The Ministry forced the serum upon him and extracted the names. Less than a week into his stay in Azkaban, he was found dead in his cell. He'd been strangled and not by his own hand. My brother died because of the Ministry law and because of their inefficiency in collecting evidence legitimately themselves to apprehend criminals."

The sense of injustice must be awful, Harry thought as he met Sully's eyes. Harry was no stranger to what he saw as unjust treatment. "I'm sorry," was all he said. There really wasn't a lot more to say; he didn't know Peter Sully, or his brother, but he was sad for Sully's loss.

Sully shook his head. "It's not your fault, Harry," he said. "But he was prepared to accept a longer sentence for not cooperating with them because he was scared of what the syndicate would do to him if he revealed their names. He was not given that choice and it cost him his life. If there is anyone we can save from that, I want to help."

Harry nodded. "I haven't actually had the chance to read your newspaper yet," he admitted. "But I've been told about it." He looked around as if to ensure that they weren't being eavesdropped upon, which was probably more habit than anything else, as there were very few people still in the foyer after the opening of the new ward. There were two familiar figures though and he continued. "How would you like an exclusive story that confirms the rumours about people being committed to St Mungo's with barely any brain function after being forced to take _Veritaserum_?"

He noticed with satisfaction that Sully's eyes lit up with interest. "I'd like that very much. It would do a lot to give credibility to our campaign. We've all heard the rumours and the staff have tried on numerous occasions to get some actual proof but we've never been able to find it."

As the two familiar figures approached the small group, Harry stepped aside a little and admitted them. He nodded to Kingsley and Tonks and introduced them to Sully. The reporter knew Kingsley of course, due to his position, and he shook hands with both of them.

"Harry, we've found the information you wanted but I'm fairly sure that even in my position I won't be able to get any of you in. I'll be lucky to get through myself," Kingsley said, once the pleasantries had been dealt with.

"I didn't think so," Harry said, "but I asked Ron and Hermione to come just in case. They wanted to go and see Dean anyway." Hermione and Ron nodded. They had wanted to go and see Dean but had come along in support of Harry. "Tonks, I was wondering if you'd go with them and take his statement about who saved him for…" he paused, not wanting to give away Draco's identity to Peter Sully, who was avidly listening to the conversation, as was to be expected. "…the records," he finished.

Tonks nodded in agreement but Kingsley broke in. "That still doesn't solve our problem."

Harry patted his pocket. "Don't worry about that. I have something here that will enable us to go just about anywhere in this hospital and not be detected."

Sully spoke up. "We know Disillusionment charms don't work in here, so what do you have?"

Harry looked around. "Lets get out of the public eye and I'll show you," he said.

Ron spoke, then. "Trust him. It works. Harry, we'll be off then. See you back at The Burrow later?"

Harry shook his head. "Probably not. As soon as I'm done here, I have to go searching for something else," he replied, giving Ron a meaningful look. Spinner's End was seemingly still so far away, when he really just wanted to get there and look for the diary and clear Draco's name. Which, when he thought about it, was possibly the weirdest thought he'd had in a long time. The more he thought about the weirdness of the situation, the less wrong it sounded. He gave both Ron and Hermione a hug goodbye and then turned to Kingsley. "Right, lets get this thing on the move," he said determinedly and headed for the lifts, both men following immediately.

Harry was quite impressed by Sully. Oh, he had no illusions that the man was cataloguing everything that was said in that conversation but he was obviously good at his job and knew when to speak and when to act like he wasn't there. Silent observation often produced more information that direct questioning did.

Once the lift doors closed, Kingsley pushed the button for the fifth floor. "Are we going to the Janus Thickey ward?" Harry asked.

Kingsley nodded. "It's an area attached to the back of the Janus Thickey," he said. "It's actually the most logical place. If any of the patients manage to wander away, they can be passed off as one of the long term mental patients in that ward – to the casual observer anyway."

"How many of them are there?" Sully asked.

"About a dozen here," he replied, thinking. Then as if making a decision, he gave himself a nod and continued. "These are the ambulatory ones. There's a safe house in Cornwall that's set up to house the bed-ridden patients. I believe there are twenty-five patients there."

"It's wrong, Kingsley," Harry whispered, shocked that the effects on these people were so tragic and so permanent. He thought he was prepared to see these victims. That's what they were – victims. No matter if they had been accused of committing some crime or other, they were still victims of cruelty themselves. He'd always thought Azkaban under the guard of the Dementors was cruel enough but at least those people had been given a trial and were, as far as Harry knew, guilty of the crimes they'd been accused of.

"I know," Kingsley replied soberly. "We can just be thankful, in a way, that the threat of what might happen makes most people agree to it."

"That's pretty cold comfort for the poor sods like my brother who were affected in other ways," Sully added darkly.

Kingsley regarded him for a moment and then nodded in agreement. Harry wondered if Kingsley knew the details of Sully's brother's case.

"I hope thirty-seven people will be enough to sway public opinion," Kingsley said.

"Speaking of which," Sully said, "how are we to get in?"

"Oh," Harry replied, smiling. "With this…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded Invisibility Cloak and shook it out.

Sully grinned. "It's been a long while since I've seen one of those. They're extremely rare."

"If I remember correctly, Harry, your father had one. I take it that's his?" Kingsley added with a fond smile on his face.

Harry nodded. "It's saved my arse on more than one occasion," he grinned. "And it should cover both of us. Ron, Hermione and I used to all fit under it. As long as we scrunch down a bit, we'll be fine."

"Well, put it on, we'll be there shortly. And keep close behind me, we don't want any accidents."

Quickly, Harry covered both himself and Sully, who was tentatively reaching out to touch the material. "Amazing," he whispered, and Harry had to agree.

Getting past the nurse at the hidden door was anti climactic. She took one look at Kingsley and ushered him through. Apparently, whilst this ward wasn't common knowledge, the Ministry didn't appear to have impenetrable wards upon it. Although as head of the Auror Department, Kingsley was probably the least suspect person to be allowed within its walls.

Harry thought he'd prepared himself for seeing these victims. He remembered meeting Neville's parents in the Janus Thickey ward years ago. They had thought that Neville was still a toddler and obviously weren't able to live without constant care but he'd had the impression that the staff had treated them with the fondness usually associated with the way children were treated. He'd assumed that these other people would be treated in much the same manner.

But this…was something else. Entirely.

What struck Harry first was the silence. Out in the Janus Thickey ward, there had been the bright chatter of the staff, the clattering of people moving around and patients muttering to themselves or carrying on conversation with imaginary people. It had felt like a decent environment. In here, though, there was silence and Harry felt that if he breathed too heavily; they'd be discovered. It was oppressive and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He glanced at Sully, only to see his attention focused on the beds.

There were eleven of them, Harry counted when his gaze followed Sully's. They were identical in every aspect, right down to the picture in the magical window above their heads. The only differences were in the people that lay upon the beds. Each one was strapped down, wrists, ankles, chest and hips tied to the bed with leather straps.

Harry stood there shocked at seeing people strapped down like this. He felt a tug on his elbow and shook himself to see Sully motioning him to follow Kingsley and the nurse who was speaking.

"…too happy to have you here to inspect our efficiency," the nurse, a stocky middle-aged woman, was saying and Harry bristled, a retort only barely restrained. This might be efficient but it was inhumane. Images of what could happen to Malfoy caused something to roll over uncomfortably in his stomach then. He pushed them away and forced himself to listen to the conversation and look about him, determined to remember every terrible detail.

"Why are they all restrained?" Kingsley asked and Harry could hear the tension in his voice, too. He must be as shocked as Harry.

"Well, we need to keep them manageable and with so few staff, if we let them run around, a lot of them would spend all their time trying to escape." The nurse's voice was so casual. Didn't she care that these were human beings? Harry looked at one of the patients, a young woman of perhaps twenty-five and he wondered what on earth she could have done in order to end up here. She was muttering something and moving her head from side to side, eyes wide and vacant and staring at something – or nothing – on the ceiling.

"Are they kept like this all the time?" Kingsley asked quietly. Harry was so pleased that Kingsley was such a professional. They really needed to know how this ward ran and only by keeping his temper and asking the right questions would he find out everything they needed to know.

"Oh, most of the time," the nurse responded with a wave of her hand as if the patients' care was unimportant. "Once a day we get them up to walk around the ward for a few minutes."

"What about feeding them and general hygiene?" Kingsley asked.

"They're spelled clean once a week and their bodily functions are regulated by their diet. We discovered that a specific protein potion which we administer orally will keep those to a minimum while at the same time ensuring that their physical condition doesn't deteriorate too extremely."

Kingsley's eyes wavered to where he assumed Harry and Sully were and the look of hopeless sadness in them was terrible to see.

"Why aren't they making any noise?"

"Silencing spells around the beds. It's a madhouse in here, otherwise. It would affect the efficient running of the ward and who wants to listen to the insane ramblings of those criminals?"

Harry clenched his fist, fuming. Animals were treated better than this. He didn't want to listen to anymore. Sully grabbed his elbow and pulled him to the side as Kingsley and nurse 'Ratchett', or so Harry dubbed her, continued down along the row of beds. They didn't dare whisper to each other, despite the distance from the nurse, but Sully's hand movements indicated that he wanted a good look at the young woman, so Harry nodded and joined him.

It was lucky the air in the ward was so warm, uncomfortably humid if truth were told, as the young woman was barely covered with a thin cotton shift of some description. Her arms, pulled out from her sides, were bare as were her legs to well up past her knees. Harry averted his eyes out of respect because the shift was riding up higher than it should have been, due to the leather straps around the woman's chest and hips. Instead he watched her face and eyes. Her hair was dull and lifeless, lying in tangled clumps around her head. When his eyes drifted to her mouth, he saw chewed lips, rough and broken and moving erratically as she spoke. Harry thought she might have been attractive, once.

Under the fake window above her head, there was a clear plastic box with a slip of paper within it that read I '_Sally McGregor._ _24:348-JTS-SOL_.' Harry had no idea what the numbers or letters meant but he thought the '24' might be her age, though she looked a lot older than that now.

Harry looked away; he felt like he was intruding on what little dignity she had left by staring at her like that. Inspecting her like an exhibit in a zoo. He was powerless to do anything about these people except to try and change things in order to make the rest of their lives a little easier with some humane care, instead of this institutionalised degradation that they were subjected to now. It frustrated him that after all he'd been through, he still had battles to fight.

But more and more he was being drawn into a new fight. Granted this one was a more political fight but even that had become something that was putting his physical safety at risk. Even if he'd wanted to let Draco fend for himself, he knew that he couldn't do it. There was no way he could let Draco suffer this; not after the horrors he'd already been through. And no matter how many times Harry told himself that he still disliked Draco, it was sounding less and less convincing.

There was no choice but to fight it. For everyone, not just Draco. This was not right; this was no way to administer justice. It was lucky that Harry had good people around him because he had no idea how to fight this battle. Still, he thought, what's new about that? When did he ever know what he was doing? Doubts about his ability to fight this came to the surface then. What if he didn't succeed? What if Draco was forced to take the _Veritaserum _and was damaged to this extent? Or worse? Harry could only imagine the state the non-ambulatory patients must be in.

If he didn't win this fight, then Draco was going to spend the next two weeks alone in a Ministry cell before being consigned to this ward, or the house in Cornwall, and treated like an animal. He might not be able to control the eventual outcome but he did have some measure of control over the next couple of weeks.

Kingsley's voice cut through his thoughts then, making his goodbye's to nurse 'Ratchett' – Harry felt some vindictive pleasure in calling her that – and he and Sully moved to stand close behind him as they left the ward.

Once in the lift, Harry whipped off the cloak. "I can't even begin to tell you how angry that made me, Kingsley," he said, incensed.

"I know," Kingsley replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I never knew it was as bad as that." He looked at Sully. "This will be front page news?"

Sully nodded. "Hell yes. I can almost certainly guarantee that the major newspapers will pick up the story, too. A story this big just can't be ignored."

"I'm going to arrange that the files on the eleven patients in that ward be 'leaked' to you. For now, I want you to keep my name out of it. If I get removed from my position I can't help anyone."

Sully nodded, excited now, obviously eager to get started on his story. "I can imply that my source is from within the hospital," he said.

"You can add my name to your story," Harry said. "For whatever good it can do, you can say that I enabled you to get into the ward and see these patients with your own eyes. The problem is," Harry added, "will anyone care?"

"I think so," Sully said, looking at Harry. "By the time I have these peoples' personal stories and make them human to the readers and not just anonymous names, they'll care."

"I hope so," he said as they exited the lift. Harry extended his hand to Sully. "Under different circumstances, I would say it's been nice to meet you. Hopefully, we'll meet again under better ones," he said.

"We'll stay in contact, Harry," Sully replied, taking Harry's hand and shaking it. "I'll keep you up to date on the story; hopefully it should be out in a few days. But, it's been a pleasure to meet you. Perhaps one day you'll do me the honour of letting me write your story."

Harry blushed and demurred; he'd rather not put his story out there and perpetuate the publicity unless forced to but he'd keep it in mind. Perhaps one story, once, might be enough and they'd all leave him to live in peace. One day.

Sully shook hands with Kingsley, who said he'd be in touch, and then he left. Harry watched the reporter disappear, hoping he'd done the right thing in allowing his name to be used. But then, he did feel it was the right thing to do and so what good was thinking that if he didn't do anything about it?

"What are your plans now, Harry? You should have an escort you know, if Coghill is after you."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I have something I need to do now that is fairly well protected from the likes of Coghill and then I have the Weasley twins if I need some more protection. Not to mention Hermione and Ron."

"As long as you're sure. Coghill is a pretty hard man. He was good at his job, too and shouldn't be taken lightly."

"I don't. I'm watching out for myself, don't worry and I promise, if I need help, I'll call."

"Very well. I need to get back to my office and arrange for one of my trusted staff to leak important documents," he said with a wry grin. "I thought that all this subterfuge against the Ministry would be over now Voldemort is dead."

"So did I, Kingsley," Harry replied. "So did I."

Five minutes later, Harry was at the door to Draco's cell, looking at him through the small window in the door. Draco was lying on his back on the bed, arms crossed under his head, staring up at the ceiling. Harry frowned, that uncomfortable rolling in his stomach appearing again. He didn't analyse it too much, realising that it might be just the residual guilt and shame from the dream last night, or pity, or…it might be something else that he really didn't need or want to look at right now. Draco looked lonely and bored, which made Harry sympathise with him even more. And Draco's isolation was too reminiscent of what he had just seen in the ward. It only firmed his decision.

He lowered the wards and entered the cell, tossing his Invisibility cloak at Draco and saying, "Put that on. I'm getting you out of here."


	11. Issues of Understanding

**Disclaimer:** These characters do not belong to me, I'm just having fun with them.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the reviews on the previous chapters. Here's another one for you with the entire chapter being some long awaited Harry Draco action. Yay! And some yummy UST at last.

As a last note, this story was started prior to DH and so there will be few spoilers. Nothing major at any rate.

Enjoy,

jamie xxxx

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"Well, this isn't quite what I was expecting," Harry said quietly.

"The first time I came here I thought Severus was playing some sort of joke," Draco replied. When Harry looked at him in disbelief, he grinned and nodded. "I know, Severus doesn't have…didn't have a sense of humour. Took me about five seconds to realise that he actually did live here."

After collecting an extremely surprised Draco from the Ministry cell, covering him in the Invisibility cloak and walking calmly past the guards, they'd Apparated to a secluded place near Spinners End. Draco had been noticeably glad to be in the fresh air and grateful to be free so he was on his best behaviour. Even though he complained profusely about the shocking clothes he was being made to wear _out in public_ Harry appreciated the lift in his spirits and regretted that Draco's respite from the cell was only temporary.

Standing at the top of the street, Harry looked along the row of shabby, dirty brick houses; most of the windows were broken or boarded up, and a huge mill chimney dominated the skyline. He wondered if the very atmosphere of the street had contributed to Snape's sallow looks and disagreeable personality as, even back here in the labyrinth of houses, the smell of the river permeated everything and it felt desolate and forgotten. Harry could well understand how bitterness and resentment could build in an environment like this when faced with students that had everything money could buy.

Draco was speaking again.

"Can we go in? I know the war is over but I still feel exposed this close to Severus's place." He was a little agitated, Harry could see, but he had a point. Not every single Death Eater had been rounded up and there was a slight possibility that there could be someone here, watching.

"Are there wards?" he asked as they stepped onto the road and crossed it, walking quickly to the door of the last house in the street.

"No. Apart from some charms to keep the Muggles away, Severus never really bothered with wards. He had no need. He used to say that the day anyone dared enter his house without his knowledge was the day he deserved to be attacked," Draco replied. "You'll need to use your wand to open the door though. He never used Muggle locks."

Harry nodded, pointed his wand and said _"Alohamora." _

When the door opened, the smell of old musty books and decay wafted past them and they both wrinkled their noses. "I'm amazed you willingly ever set foot in this place," Harry said.

Draco immediately bristled. "Listen, Potter, Severus may not have been your favourite person but he saved my life and I'll not have you say a word against him. He was the only person, _the only person_ that I could trust. So you just shut up about him!"

Harry looked at him, impressed. "You really have changed, haven't you?"

Draco grumbled. "You really don't have a choice when death looks you in the face every day for a couple of years. Can we go inside now or are we going to stand on the doorstep all day?"

Harry gave him one more look, thinking that Draco had some definite redeeming qualities after all, before pushing the door open and ushering him through.

"Oh, great," he sighed when he saw that the small sitting room they'd entered was virtually covered from floor to ceiling along each wall with books. "Not quite as bad as a needle in a haystack search but not far from it." The room was dark, windowless and airless, the only light coming in from the door and casting dusty rays across the shelving.

"You don't think he'd leave it in plain sight do you?" Draco scoffed. "It won't be in this lot. Severus will have some secret panel or some hidden alcove where he will have hidden it."

Draco's words triggered a memory in Harry. "I remember Dumbledore asked me once where the best place was to hide something you didn't want found," Harry murmured, half to himself, still finding it hard to speak about Dumbledore. At the time he'd been talking about the Mirror of Erised but it was a true adage nevertheless.

Draco interrupted his reverie. "And…?'

"Oh," Harry said, looking around at the room. "He said the best place was in plain sight. No one expects that." Harry frowned. "There are no other doors in here," he said suddenly realising that Snape could not have lived in this one room.

"They're hidden doors, Potter," Draco replied, moving towards the books on one wall. "There are three. One leads to the kitchen, dining area and such. Another leads to the bedrooms and bathrooms and this one," Draco said, as he indicated in the direction he was heading, "leads up to the attic. My guess is we'll find the diary up there." Draco's hands reached out to feel around the spines on some of the books, obviously searching for a latch of some sort. "Snape was too secretive and too paranoid to have left his diary where just anyone could find it. Hiding the entrance to the rest of his house is indicative of that, don't you think? Besides, I was here sometimes during the war when he could get me away from the Manor, and I never saw anything resembling a diary."

Privately, Harry thought that Draco had probably been too occupied with practising his flirting on Snape, the thought of which made him shudder for some reason, to be worried about looking at what books Snape had lying around. But he was prepared to allow that Draco had known Snape better than he and so would defer to him on this.

After a few more minutes searching, Draco touched something that resulted in a soft click of a mechanism and a door in the wall of books appeared, sitting slightly ajar.

Harry caught Draco's self-satisfied eye and moved beside him to open the door. "Snape didn't set any traps for the unwary did he?" Harry ventured. Draco merely rolled his eyes.

"If he didn't bother with wards, what makes you think he'd bother laying traps inside his own home?"

"I wouldn't put anything past him," Harry muttered mostly to himself but he knew Draco caught what he'd said by the glare he threw him over his shoulder as he stepped confidently through the doorway.

The opened door revealed a short passage lit by flickering eternal globes attached to the walls, and ending in a flight of old wooden stairs. They creaked ominously as Harry climbed after Draco and he hoped Draco was right and there wasn't a trick step that was going to spring as he stepped on it.

A small landing met them at the top of the stairs and two closed doors faced them. Draco headed for the door on the left. "This is the room he used to do a lot of work in," he said. "The other one is set up as a potions room. He spent a lot of time there, too." Draco frowned, then his face softened perceptibly. "He secretly made all the potions he used to heal me in there." He gave Harry, who was quietly watching the changes in Draco's face, a quick glance before continuing. "There were things that they did to me he was not supposed to heal. Internal things that they told me would remind me that I was nothing." Draco's voice became bitter sounding. "As if I needed any further reminding of that. If Severus hadn't healed me…" he sighed. "He took risks for me and made me remember that as long as one person cared what happened to me then I was worth something." Draco's voice had softened and trailed off, full of sadness, and once more Harry felt the sympathy stir in him.

Draco turned to Harry then with a thoughtful look on his face. "And now there's you," he said softly.

_ And now there's me_, Harry echoed him silently. When Harry had first decided to speak to Draco before the Ministry sent him to Azkaban, he really hadn't cared about what happened to him. Now, though, he found he couldn't deny it. He _did_ care about Draco. The thought made his chest ache and Draco's piercing gaze made his heart beat faster and his cheeks heat up. It was such an unexpected feeling that he wasn't sure what to do with it. Admit it out loud and leave himself open for that Malfoy mockery he was used to? Harry felt, though, that Draco had moved past that; they both had. Besides, actions spoke louder than words and Harry knew his actions over the previous few days had been anything but those of someone who didn't care.

Draco was still watching him and his stare was unnerving, but he couldn't think clearly enough to drag himself away from it. Draco saved him the trouble by blinking and looking down, but not before Harry saw what looked to be real regret in his eyes.

Clearing his throat and feeling relieved he'd escaped revealing that he'd formed some sort of emotional attachment, Harry indicated the door they were standing in front of. "So, this was like his office or something?"

Draco opened the door as he nodded, and they stepped inside. Harry sighed as once more he was faced with walls of books. "Hermione would have felt right at home here," he said. "Would you mind if I asked her to come and look at all these one day?" He wasn't sure why he was asking Draco for permission; it just seemed like the right thing to do.

Draco shrugged. "It's not my place to say yes or no, and he's dead now, so having Granger go through his books won't make a scrap of difference to him."

Harry moved into the room properly. "Do you know if he had any family to leave all this to?" he asked, approaching an old scarred desk in the center of the room.

Draco shook his head. "No, I don't think he had any living family left."

Harry looked up. "Then as you were the closest to him, you have more right than anyone to say whether or not someone can come through here."

"Thanks, Harry," Draco replied and Harry could see that he was gratified. "I have no idea if he even left a will. What will happen to all this if he didn't?"

"You'd know more about that than I. I was raised a Muggle, remember? No idea about wizarding law or tradition or anything." Harry sat down at the desk and opened the top drawer.

"Ah, yes, how could I forget that?" Draco smiled shortly. "But even if he did leave a will, I doubt he would have left this pile of falling masonry to me. He hated it here and I don't think he would have wanted to see me here. Besides," his voice quieted, "I don't think he expected me to survive for very long."

"Draco…" Harry started and made to rise. This sad Draco was unsettling him and making him want to offer comfort. It actually made him wish for the flirty Draco back. He at least knew how to handle that one. Sort of.

"No, it's alright, Harry," Draco stopped him. "It's just hard being back here and realising that it's all over; that he's gone and…" he broke off and turned to the book shelf closest to him. "It's not really over, is it? Not until we find that proof."

Harry shook his head. "Not for either of us." Damn, he'd spoken before he thought about it.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

Harry sighed and debated just how much he should tell Draco about what was happening. He'd held back from telling him about Coghill before now but he had a right to know what was happening, especially if he was going to remove Draco from the Ministry cell each day to help him search. Draco was in as much danger from Coghill as Harry was. He finished searching through the drawers for the diary while he contemplated how to tell Draco and when he stood up it was to see Draco's concerned face looking at him.

"Well?" he pushed.

"I had the men who beat you up transferred to other duties, away from where they could do any more damage," Harry started. "The big one, Coghill, decided that I ruined his life by wrecking his career and has gone into hiding with the express purpose of finding a way to make me pay for it." Harry tried to retain a casual air when he spoke of it but then the things that Coghill had been doing made him annoyed all over again and his voice reflected that.

"He's been following me around, planting rumours in the newspapers about you and I being more than old school acquaintances. Last night he hexed a chandelier to drop on my head at the Ball. That's why I came to see you with blood on me; the shards of crystal went everywhere. Then when I finally arrived home my flat had been ransacked and destroyed."

"He's after you because of what you did for me?" Draco asked in a small voice.

Harry moved around to the front of the desk. "I think it's more that I wrecked his life, according to him, not that it was anything to do with you. You alright?" he asked concerned, as Draco leant against the bookshelf and sank to the floor.

Draco nodded. "What else?" he asked hoarsely, a look on his face that Harry could only interpret as shocked.

Harry continued and told Draco all about the push to ban of the use of _Veritaserum_, about Sully and how he'd taken him to see the people in the hospital and how it had been the catalyst for him deciding to get Draco out of the cell for a time. He told him how he felt seeing those poor people bound and tied up having lost their minds and how he couldn't in all good conscience let that happen to Draco.

Draco sat staring at Harry as if he'd grown another head. "Why on earth would you do all that for me?"

"Don't get too carried away. I would have done the same for anyone. It was the right thing to do."

"I don't think you quite realise just what you've done." Draco stood and walked towards Harry, smiling at him. A real smile; one that made his eyes light up and reanimated his still gaunt face, which was a thing that Harry had rarely seen on Draco Malfoy's face

"What is it that I've done?" Harry asked, surprised that his voice sounded so steady, as the fluttering in his chest had made itself known to him again when Draco drew near.

"I can count on one hand the number of people that have cared enough about me to stand up for me," Draco began, coming to a stop right in front of Harry. As he spoke, Harry held his breath, unsure as to just why Draco's voice seemed to be coming from further and further away.

The back of a warm hand caressed his cheek and he jumped but was unable to pull his gaze away from Draco's eyes. "And there are even less who have been prepared to put their lives on the line for me, Harry."

"Draco…" Harry tried to say, but it came out a whisper. Draco really had very pretty eyes, he thought, swallowing hard because this was uncharted territory for him; he'd never even thought he might find aspects of a male attractive, arousing even. Yet, here he was, Draco Malfoy standing so close that he could almost feel his body heat and looking at him as if he'd like to kiss him.

And Harry thought he might let him.

"Shh, Harry," Draco breathed, turning his hand to cup Harry's cheek and letting his thumb brush across Harry's lips. "Only you."

The words were like a bucket of cold water washing through him. They were too much, too similar to the words he'd heard in his dream…"_I only ever wanted you, Harry..." _Harry's fear must have shown on his face, for Draco frowned and looked seriously at him for a few moments, before an intense look of sorrow clouded the eyes he'd though pretty only moments ago. Then, resolute, Draco took Harry's face in both of his hands and held it close to his own.

"I'm going to say this once, Harry, and I will take a wizards oath if you require it." Harry could see that he was determined by the set of his jaw. This close it was hard to hide anything from each other; it was oddly intimate, especially seeing as they were of a similar height. Draco continued, his breath warm against Harry's face. "I know you don't believe me when I say that I find you extremely attractive. I know you think it's all an act." Draco's eyes skated over Harry's face and the sadness in them made him blush under the scrutiny. But soon those intense grey eyes found his again and Harry barely had time to wonder why he could find nothing to say, when Draco released his face and stepped back. "There's nothing I can do to make you think otherwise, but for what it's worth, I promise that I will always tell you the truth. It's the least I can do for someone so…" Draco's voice finally caught and he turned away. "It's the least I can do."

Harry could breathe again now that he was not the focus of all that intensity and he had time to realise that Draco had misinterpreted his look of terror. But he could no more tell Draco the real reason for that look than he could bring Snape back from the dead to clear Draco's name.

"Draco, I…" Harry stopped. He had no idea what to say. He wondered at this uncharacteristic hesitation and uncertainty. In all their previous meetings he'd had been calm and in control but, right now, he wasn't sure what to do or say that wouldn't come out all confused. Or sound like an invitation.

The only thing he was sure of at this point was that Draco looked so sad and it was because of him.

"I think we should start searching in here," Harry said finally, thinking that it was better if they stuck to why they were here in the first place. Draco would get over this little crush, which was surely the result of Harry saving him when he defeated Voldemort and then being willing to stand up for him. Gratitude incorrectly identified as attraction was all it was. Draco would hate himself when he realised.

For the rest of the day they searched that room, Harry casting detecting spells over the walls to see if there was any hidden crevices or nooks in which to hide something as precious as a diary. After the first excitement when one of his spells revealed a hidden space, which turned out to be empty, they grew less and less enthusiastic and by the end of the day, Harry was sick and tired of books. He'd cast so many revealing spells on the books that he felt quite drained. Draco had spent the day pulling books from the shelves and opening them, flicking through to check on their contents and he looked just as drained as Harry felt.

As the room began to darken, Harry's stomach reminded him that they hadn't eaten all day. He slumped down on a hard wooden chair behind the desk, disgruntled at their lack of success. He was trying to stay positive, as this was only the first room they had searched but he was tired and their conversation had been strained since Draco's earlier promise.

"I think I've had enough for the day," Harry said, watching Draco restack the last books back onto the shelf. "You look like you're about to drop," he added, when Draco literally fell into another chair.

"I don't want to stop, I want to keep looking until I find that blasted thing," Draco replied defiantly, but Harry detected the hints of exhaustion behind his words. "I could use some food though," he added.

Harry nodded. "Me too." He removed his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. The dust from the books had settled on them making them harder to see through. "We have a choice. I can call Kreacher to bring us some food or we can go out to eat. It shouldn't be hard to find somewhere Muggle where you won't be recognised."

Draco yawned and stretched as Harry put his glasses back on and he caught just the end, conceding that Draco even stretched gracefully. Inexplicably, he was being drawn closer and closer to Draco. And he wasn't at all sure he minded anymore.

"Normally, I'd jump at the chance of eating in a restaurant, but not wearing I this /I outfit, Potter." Weasley hand-me-downs were obviously not Draco's preferred style of clothing, and Harry almost retorted, but he saw Draco's tired face, smirking at him. One of the new smirks, with the smiling eyes. Harry just shook his head, wryly amused.

"I think I'd rather eat here," Draco said, more seriously. "I'm in desperate need of a shower and some decent clothes but the most important thing I need right now is food. And if you plan on taking me back to the Ministry cell, I'd rather not go back hungry. Their food isn't complete pig swill but it's not far off it, and doesn't even come close to Mrs. Weasley's cooking. I don't suppose we could get some more of that stew?"

"Alright, I'll call Kreacher," Harry agreed. "In the meantime, you could always shower. I don't suppose Snape would mind if you used his shower."

"I might," Draco nodded. "At least I'll feel cleaner, even if I can't change out of these…clothes."

"Well, I'm sure you could find something of Snape's to wear," Harry ventured. He didn't think he would like the choice of Snape's wardrobe but Draco wasn't really in any position to be too picky.

"That's a point," Draco conceded, lifting himself out of the chair.

"Any preferences for what you'd like to eat?" Harry asked, joining him. "Apart from Molly's cooking, that is. I don't think she'd take kindly to me feeding an escapee."

"No, I'll let you choose. Just something light and not too rich," Draco replied, leading the way down the stairs.

"So, no rich, thick creamy pasta sauces, then," Harry said, teasingly, knowing full well why Draco would want some plain food. It felt good to be able to tease him, though, without it turning into an argument, despite the lowering of their spirits due to the unproductive day they'd had.

"Not unless you want a repeat performance of the other day," Draco replied, throwing Harry a narrowed look over his shoulder as they entered the sitting room once more.

Harry laughed smugly and shook his head, but then shocked himself completely by remembering the clinging hug he'd received from Draco that day, with slight pang of longing. Did he _want _ Draco to hug him like that again? Like his very life depended on him? Were the things Draco had always said about him true? That he enjoyed all the adulation and the hero worship; did he always have to be saving people because he wanted their gratitude? Christ, in just a few intense days, Draco bloody Malfoy had managed to confuse Harry like no other person had ever done.

"Right, well, I'm off to shower," Draco said, having found the latch on the bookshelves that opened the door through to the bedrooms and bathroom. "You could always come with me, you know," he added, smiling. "I'm sure you managed to get yourself all dusty today."

"Err...no, I'm all right, thanks," Harry replied, blushing slightly.

Draco sighed dramatically. "Oh, well, you can't blame a bloke for trying," he said shrugging, but the humour was clear to see in his eyes.

"Go and have your shower, you prat," Harry scowled playfully, oddly flattered, even though he knew flirting was what Draco was best at. Despite that, he _still_ liked it. If one of his other 'fans' had offered the same thing, Harry knew he'd be slightly repulsed by it. So, perhaps there was nothing to his thought of only being a hero for the gratitude theory then after all. Perhaps it was because it was Draco that he liked it.

Draco gave him a little flirty wave over his shoulder as he flounced off to find the shower and Harry sat down on the threadbare sofa, calling Kreacher. When he'd requested the elf to bring both of them some plain chicken, rice and steamed vegetables, along with fruit and yoghurt, coffee and juice - and ordered him to reveal his whereabouts to no one - he sat back tiredly to wait.

So much had happened to him in the past few days that at times he found it hard to comprehend. It seemed to be one thing after another, barely giving him time to process one thing before another was flung at him. He supposed, in one way, it was a good thing he'd not been given time to think or he might have acted in a different manner. He knew that he was best flying by the seat of his pants. He wasn't always right but he felt that when he had time to plan something out, his biggest flaw was that as soon as his plan was deviated from, he felt lost, took too long to adjust and ended up in more trouble than when he'd started. Going with his instinct had served him well so far, so why change it now?

As his mind relaxed a little, a list appeared to form in his head. He needed to have some secure way of contacting Hermione, Ron and the twins. He didn't like being out of contact with Fred and George, especially now when Coghill had made his intent clear. Hopefully, they could come up with something appropriate. He could see Ron and Hermione tonight after he had delivered Draco back to his cell. The glamours he'd cast over the door to the cell weren't permanent so he had no choices in that regard, unless he wanted to throw his life away completely and spend it on the run with a wanted Death Eater.

Not a comforting thought, nor an option.

Which brought him back to thinking about Draco. And that dream. Had there been some latent attraction to Draco that manifested itself in that dream? Disgusted as he was by his part in the dream, he knew what he'd done was nowhere near the worst Draco must have been through. So, some of it at least must have been the subconscious desire to see himself and Draco in a sexual situation but, having no real understanding of boys in that regard, he'd latched onto Draco's experiences. Did that even sound reasonable? It felt more of an excuse than a reason but he definitely had no desire to abuse Draco sexually…or maybe the fact that he'd been angry with Draco, combined with some denied attraction, was what caused the violence of the dream…

Harry sighed as Kreacher popped back with their food, carefully heated with warming charms. He really had no idea what the dream meant; nor could he fully understand why there was a part of him that did care for Draco. Confusion seemed to be the consistent stream of his thoughts when he thought of Draco. He stood and headed towards the sounds of running water to tell Draco that their meal was there, deciding to put any confusing thoughts away for now and think on them when all this mess was over.

Snape's bedroom was no surprise. Spartan yet shabby was pretty much as he expected. The mean narrow bed was pushed against the wall and into a corner as if to give its occupant some protection. The covers were old and there were places where the stitching was coming apart. The cover on the flat pillow was grubby and grey and Harry scrunched up his nose at the sight. The man was no doubt a genius potions Master and had been instrumental in winning the war but his personal habits left a lot to be desired.

This private part of Snape's life was something that Harry felt was no business of his and it made him feel awkward and uncomfortable just being here, as if he was somehow intruding. He half expected at any minute Snape would appear and look down his nose at him and say "Get out!" in the same tone he'd spoken to him back in fifth year. He half hoped that Snape would appear, ghost or real. They could ask where he'd put that damned diary then.

He walked over to the door and rapped on it, calling "Draco, dinner is here."

Hearing Draco's muffled reply, he turned to leave the room and saw a photo in a large frame placed on the dresser. It caught his eye because it was a photograph of his mother. Harry stood and stared at it incredulously. What was a photo of his mother doing on Snape's dresser? From what Harry knew, Snape hated Lily Evans, so why…? The vivid images of Snape's penseive memories came back to Harry, and he saw the scene where Lily had tried to help Snape and saw the derisive way Snape had spoken to her and called her a Mudblood. Frowning, Harry wondered if that had all been a smokescreen. Had there been some real feeling between his mother and Snape? Was that one of the reasons the potions master had hated Harry so much?

He picked up the picture and blew the dust from the glass so he could see the picture more clearly. It had obviously been taken in school, because Lily was wearing a Gryffindor uniform and she looked to be about fourteen of fifteen. Harry smiled sadly at the picture that was smiling and waving back at him. She would have no idea who he was, naturally, but he felt better telling himself that she did.

He was still looking at the picture when Draco returned from the bathroom and stood beside him.

"That's your mother isn't it?" he asked softly and Harry nodded. "She was very pretty," Draco added. "You have her eyes, Harry."

"If I had a galleon for every time someone said that, I'd be as rich as Dumbledore," Harry responded, a slight smile on his face. He turned to look at Draco. "I always thought he hated my mum. Did he ever mention her?" he asked, meaning Snape.

"Not a lot, no," Draco said. "I asked him once why he kept this picture on his dresser. He told me that it was to remind him that not everything is as it appears on the surface. I didn't know it was your mum at the time but when I said she had your eyes, he told me that he'd known her when she was a child. I gathered then that he had some deep emotional attachment to her."

All those years, Snape had known his mother and never once mentioned it; never once offered to tell him about her. Harry had so little knowledge of his mother and what he did have was of her time at Hogwarts. Aunt Petunia had never deigned to tell him anything about her life before Hogwarts. He wished he'd known about Snape and his mum; it might have made their antagonism toward each other a little less virulent somehow.

Harry's eyes drifted back to the picture, smiling at Lily, who had been standing watching the two boys speak. She raised an amused eyebrow at them and made laughing kissy faces, pointing at the two of them. Harry blushed and almost groaned out 'mu-um', but then he remembered she was only a teenager in the photo and had no idea who they were. He placed her back on the dresser, regretfully. He'd have loved to take the picture with him, but it didn't belong to him, somehow it belonged here in this sad house with the memory of the hero that had lived here.

When he turned back to Draco, he noticed that he only had a towel on, slung low over his bony hips. He rolled his eyes and ignored Draco's amused response to Lily's childish teasing, which consisted of puckering his lips. "Go and get some clothes on so we can eat dinner," he said. "I'm starving."

Then he beat a hasty retreat back to the sitting room, hearing Draco's delighted chuckle and the word "chicken" taunting him as he left.

When Draco came back into the sitting room he was fully dressed in a set of austere black robes. Harry assumed that was how Snape dressed all the time and the colour actually suited Draco, although it made his slender body, already malnourished, look even thinner.

They settled down to eat, Draco humming in appreciation at the plain food. "This feels much better in my stomach," he said around a piece of broccoli.

"Good," Harry replied, concentrating on his own meal.

Few words were spoken by either of them until the meal was finished, Draco barely eating half of his, and they sat back together on the sofa sipping coffee.

Draco yawned. "I'm so full now. It's going to take a while to get back to eating a decent sized meal." His voice turned serious. "Just in time to have it all go to waste, unless we can find the diary."

"We will," Harry stressed. "We won't give up, Draco."

"You're right, of course," Draco said, turning to smile at him. "Ever the optimist, though, aren't you?"

"Always." Harry smiled in return, getting caught in Draco's expression. His mouth was smiling but his eyes weren't, full of a sadness that made Harry's heart clench. "Don't give up on me now, Draco," he said, wanting nothing more than to see the blond smile again. Properly. A comforting hand rested on Draco's knee, Harry unaware that he'd placed it there until Draco brought attention to it by redirecting his gaze.

Harry blushed a little, but left the hand there for a few moments more, before removing it.

Draco sighed. "Maybe I deserve everything that's going to happen to me if we can't find that diary. Maybe even if we do find it, it will have nothing more interesting than Severus' grocery list in its pages."

"Stop it," Harry said shortly. "If you thought it was all hopeless, you would have run as soon as we left the Ministry. Instead, you're here with me trying to find a way to clear your name. Why?"

At Harry's brusque tone, Draco looked up at him, surprised. "Why didn't I run? Oh, well, that was because I never want to leave your side again," Draco replied flippantly but, at Harry's stern look, he relented and rubbed the bridge of his nose before replying again.

"I don't want to live the rest of my life always looking over my shoulder, wondering when someone from the Ministry would appear and lock me in Azkaban, or worse, for the rest of my days. I've lived in fear most of my life, Harry and it's debilitating. My mum said that when I was a kid, I was fearless. I used to climb to the top most part of the Manor and jump off on my little Peewee broom. I'd fly safely to the ground, but she said she always had her heart in her throat seeing how unafraid and how confident I was.

"Fear changed all that. I became scared to do anything that didn't comply with what was expected of me. I was petrified that someone would find that under all the bluff and bluster, there was nothing worthwhile, that I was a coward." Draco paused for a moment and Harry stayed silent, letting him take his time. "I will admit that if you'd given me the chance of escape earlier, then I would have taken it and be damned. But you listened to me, treated me with respect, even though I know you hate me. Or you used to hate me." He gave Harry a little smirk before continuing. "Because of you, I'm free from that monster and all his pathetic minions. Because of you, there is a small chance of a relatively normal life. Now, you've given me the chance, I need the chance to be able to show everyone that I'm not a coward, that I am worth it. Finally, after all these years, I'm learning not to let fear rule me and it's all because of you, Harry. How could I run away from that?"

Harry sat there stunned by the depth of Draco's thoughts. After hearing what he'd gone through, Harry had wondered at the strength required to survive something like that relatively intact. "It's not because of me, Draco," Harry responded. "I wouldn't have been able to do any of that unless you'd already taken a stand to help yourself by helping Snape. You're no coward," he smiled. "Dean Thomas told me what you did to save him."

Draco looked at him, eyes wide in surprise. "He did? Oh."

Harry nodded. "And he's going to speak for you at your trial. You saved his life, Draco. It took guts going up against Greyback like that."

"Thanks," Draco said softly, looking away and, if Harry didn't know better, he'd think that Draco was blushing. But when Draco looked back at him, there was no tell-tale signs of it. "You just have to know how to handle Greyback. He was…predictable in the end. Thank Thomas for agreeing to speak for me, will you?" Draco said, awkwardly, sighing. "I don't know that I deserve this support from you and your friends but…"

Harry cut him off. "Everyone deserves a second chance. And I appreciate you not running off. I would have had to chase you down and hex you from here to next week."

Draco gave a small chuckle and then sighed, leaning across and resting his head on Harry's shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered. "I'm beginning to think though that my first reason is just as valid as the real one."

And Harry had nothing to say to that.

They really should be getting back to the Ministry before the glamours on the cell faded but the weight of Draco's head on his shoulder felt so comfortable. Maybe a few more minutes wouldn't hurt.


	12. Issues of Consolidation

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

* * *

Author Notes: Oh, finally an update! Sorry for taking so long. Hopefully, now I'll be able to get stuck back into this fic and get the thing finished. Enjoy reading!

jamie

xxx

* * *

Chapter 12: Issues of Consolidation.

Morning saw Harry flat on his back in bed sleeping - snoring loudly enough to wake the dead. It wasn't until Remus entered his room, flung the curtains open wide and made a lot of noise that Harry grunted and grudgingly woke.

"What time is it?" he asked, rolling away from the sudden light.

"After 9," Remus replied. 'Ron and Hermione are downstairs. I think they want to hear what happened yesterday."

"Right," Harry said, reluctantly flinging back the covers and sliding his legs over the edge. Yesterday had been odd in more ways than one, he remembered. Not the least of which was how comfortable he and Draco were in each other's company now. However, the important things that happened yesterday were that Sully had been given enough ammunition to do an expose on the effects of the forced use of _Veritaserum_ and that they hadn't found Snape's diary. Yet. "Thanks," he told Remus. "I'll be down as soon as I get dressed."

"Are you actually going to eat this morning?" Remus asked, smiling. "Yesterday you just pushed it around your plate."

Harry grimaced. "Yes, I'll eat, I promise." He looked for his clothes, which he'd tossed somewhere last night after getting in very late. By the time he'd taken Draco back to his cell in the Ministry building, it had been too late to do anything more than be relieved that the Glamours had held long enough and then come home and fall into bed.

Remus left and Harry quickly dressed. He made a stop in the bathroom, washing and combing his hair, before heading down to the kitchen to be greeted by the sight of Ron hoeing into mounds of bacon and eggs.

"Morning, Harry," Hermione chirped, pouring coffee. She amended her tone to sympathetic when she saw how tired he looked. "You look like you had a rough day, yesterday."

"Thanks," he grimaced. "Shouldn't have bothered with washing then, huh?"

"Well, you could've done something with your hair at least," Ron joked around a mouthful of bacon.

"Hah, very funny." Harry rolled his eyes and sat down, taking the coffee Hermione offered.

"Bacon and eggs, Harry?" Tonks asked from the stove. When he looked at her to nod and thank her, he saw she was rather preoccupied with hitting the sleeve of her robe, which had caught fire. He laughed and waited until it was out before agreeing to a cooked breakfast.

"So, Harry, catch us up with what happened at St. Mungos yesterday," demanded Hermione when they were all seated, plates of piping hot food piled in front of them.

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "We saw Dean and he gave Tonks his statement, but we haven't had the chance to hear what happened to you. And then you nicked off to Snape's…" Ron broke off, flushing badly.

Harry winced seeing Remus and Tonks both stop eating and look at him, questioningly. "You went to Snape's?" Remus said, his eyes narrowing.

"Good one, Ron," Harry groaned.

"Sorry, mate," Ron apologised. "Look, I reckon they need to know all this stuff anyway. The more that know the full story the more help we can get and you know we can trust these two."

Harry dropped his knife and fork and ran his hands through his hair, sighing. Ron was right. He was just so used to being told by those older than him that he didn't know what he was doing and having his every action questioned that he'd not wanted one more person to doubt him – and yet, the longer he kept the full story from them the more they were going to doubt him because they were only hearing half the story.

'You're right," he sighed.

Hermione nodded and squeezed Ron's hand in support, giving him a smile.

"Any time you're ready, Harry," Remus said.

Looking around at them he thought about Ron's words and about the help he'd need over the next couple of weeks, and decided that he needed to be smart about this and ensure that everyone that was helping – with the exception of Peter Sully for the moment – should be fully aware of the facts. Especially seeing as people like Tonks and Kingsley were risking their jobs. They needed to be paid the respect that Harry felt had never been paid him. So many times in the past his actions had been based on incomplete information and ignorance of the truth. He'd be a hypocrite if he didn't tell them what was going on.

He nodded. "All right, but not until we get everyone together. We'll need your family Ron, but maybe not Ginny, she has enough to be going on with looking after Dean. And we need Kingsley as well, if he's available. I'll have to go and let Draco know…" He stopped. It would be too much to let it slip that he'd taken Draco out of the Ministry. Even Ron and Hermione would think that too much right now. "I'll let him know I'll be late," he finally finished. "If you can organise everyone to be here in, say, an hour, then I promise to get everyone up to speed on exactly what's going on."

It was amazing how much of a relief that felt. Remus and Tonks looked momentarily annoyed that they'd have to wait an hour, but when Harry tucked back into his breakfast making it obvious that he wasn't going to expand on anything further, they reluctantly joined him. He spent the rest of his time at the breakfast table eating and chatting with Hermione and Ron about their visit to Dean.

* * *

Draco was pacing the cell when he arrived.

"Worried I wasn't going to turn up?" Harry teased, only to be sorry when Draco's face flushed in embarrassment for a second before he masked it and shook his head.

"No, I just want to get back there and keep looking. I absolutely hate being in this cell."

And Harry knew that was true enough. It would be enough to drive him insane, he knew that. Being surrounded by four walls, no windows and nothing to do, nothing to listen to, no one to talk to…

Even so, Harry knew that Draco was still insecure about being left alone and forgotten, which was understandable being shut up in here alone so much. He wished there was something more he could do, but they were walking a fine line as it was and he didn't want to draw too much attention to them.

"I can understand that," Harry agreed. "I'll take you there now, but I have something to do this morning and won't be back until this afternoon."

Draco frowned, then looked shocked. "You're going to leave me there on my own? You trust me that much?"

"I figured if you were going to escape you'd have done it by now. Even if you were planning on hurting me, you could have at any time yesterday, not the least when I fell asleep with your head on my shoulder," Harry said, smiling, just a touch awkward remembering how comfortable it felt to have Draco's head on his shoulder. "Besides, you gave me your reasons for not escaping yesterday and for some reason, I believe you."

The next thing Harry knew was that he had an armful of Draco, hugging him. 'You keep surprising me, Harry," Draco said softly. "Though I shouldn't be. It was this 'you' that kept me going in there, kept me hoping that one day you'd kill that maniac and I'd be free. I just…"

The words stopped and Harry, who'd actually surprised himself by holding Draco back, pulled away a little to look into Draco's face. "Just what?" he pressed.

Draco blushed, looking uncomfortable. "I just never thought that you'd have faith in me in return. What if I let you down?"

Harry grinned. "Oh, come on, where is the arrogant Draco Malfoy that I know? The one that would sneer at me for even suggesting you'd care if you let me down?"

"I think he finally realised that he's found someone he never wants to let down again."

Blast that Malfoy, Harry sighed. That was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that Draco had said something Harry found he had no response to. When did the goal posts change and leave him floundering, not knowing this Draco Malfoy at all? Had he ever known the real Draco?

After a few more moments, Harry pulled away entirely. "Anyway, the reason I won't be with you this morning is that I need to finally tell some people what's been going on. They're all helping me in one way or another and they don't know the full story."

"You won't tell them about…about what I told you…?" Draco asked apprehensively.

Harry shook his head. "No, that's not my story to tell. I haven't told anyone, don't worry." Harry took out the Invisibility Cloak and handed it to Draco, who took it and covered himself with it. "Ideally, you should be part of the discussion as well, but I haven't anyone I've had you out of the cell," Harry added. "But I'd like to bring Hermione back with me to Spinners End to help look for the diary this afternoon."

"You think she'll be happy to see me there?" Draco's voice came a little muffled from under the cloak. It sounded doubtful.

"Whatever she might think of you personally, she wants to help because she doesn't believe what they did to you, nor what they're planning to do, is right."

It took a while for Draco to reply, and when he did it was very soft and Harry had to really listen to make sure he heard right.

"I'm grateful for her help, then. Will you thank her for me?"

"You can do it yourself when you see her later," Harry said bluntly, walking to the door. This humbled Draco was disconcerting; he wanted Draco's biting wit back, even if the sarcasm was directed at him. It was more familiar; this Draco was most unsettling, turning a lot of the comfortable-ness about yesterday into something intimate and he had no desire to become intimate with Draco.

Though when he felt Draco's hand on his arm, letting him know he was there as they left the cell, he wondered at the truth of that. Then he stomped on that thought as quickly as it rose. Perhaps he should just stick to trying to make sure Draco stayed out of Azkaban.

Minutes later they were out of the Ministry, Draco still holding Harry's arm, by necessity now, so that Harry could Apparate them both to Spinners End.

"It doesn't look any better the second day," Harry said as they walked across the street to the front door.

"You expected it to?" Draco replied dryly.

"No." Harry snorted.

"Bit pointless making that observation then, wasn't it?"

"Well, I'm sorry, your majesty," Harry said, sarcastically. "Pardon me for being observant."

Draco laughed. "Save your obviously prodigious observation skills for finding that diary."

"Yes, sir," Harry grinned and mock saluted him as they entered the dusty run down house.

He made sure that Draco was safely inside then set some ground rules.

"Now," he said, trying to withhold a grin. "No opening the door to strangers. No going out anywhere by yourself, and no reading Sev's porn if you find it."

"I hardly think that last one is a problem, Potter," Draco responded sardonically. "I'd probably scream if I had to look at his porn." Harry raised an eyebrow. "Severus generally preferred women, Harry, your mother for one. Unless he had a secret gay fetish, then I'm pretty sure I'll not appreciate his porn."

"Right," Harry said. Of course. Harry gave himself a mental poke in the ribs for that one. "Well, behave yourself and good luck," Harry said. "I'll bring Hermione back when we're done with the meeting."

"Just go, Potter," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "I'll be fine."

"Okay," Harry said, nodding, oddly reluctant to leave. It wasn't as if he didn't trust that Draco would still be here when he got back, it was more that he didn't like leaving him on his own.

How he was to explain this odd friendship to the others, he didn't know.

* * *

By the time he arrived back at Grimmauld, everyone else was assembled in the kitchen. There was coffee and pumpkin juice on the table and a cake obviously supplied by Molly. Kingsley had been able to make it after all and Harry appreciated that he'd taken time from his busy job for this. They made quite a crew when he looked at them all seated around the table. Ron, Hermione, the twins, Bill, Molly and Arthur, Remus, Tonks and Kingsley. You could do a lot worse when it came to loyal friends, Harry decided.

He smiled at them all. "Thanks for coming. I thought that finally it was about time you all knew exactly what is going on. How we killed Voldemort and just why I think Draco Malfoy should be freed."

There were a number of protests to this, notably from Kinglsey, Remus, Bill, Arthur and Molly, which he expected. He let those that objected finish saying what they were saying, and politely listened, even though they almost universally consisted of "You can't do that, he's a Death Eater!"

"Wait, hear me out before you protest, please?" Harry asked calmly when they were done.

"You all know that Hermione, Ron and myself were off searching for something most of last year," Harry begun. "What you don't know is what it was we were looking for. Each time Voldemort killed, he separated a piece of his soul, embedded it in an object and hid it away. As long as any of these objects remained intact, he could not be killed. There were seven of these Horcruxes, as they're called, and few knew of their existence." He stopped and let them process this information. Ron and Hermione already knew this of course, and they sat there quietly.

"I knew there was some other reason, apart from the prophecy, that Albus hadn't gone after Voldemort himself to at least weaken him," Remus said. "It makes sense now, knowing how obsessed with immortality Voldemort was."

"That'd be something Voldemort would do," Kingsley agreed. "Always on the path searching for immortality. You obviously destroyed them all, right?" he asked, giving Harry a look.

"Yes," said Harry. "Of course, after we got rid of them we had no idea of how to kill Voldemort, to make sure his body was destroyed as well. We received a tip from an anonymous someone, who turned out to be Snape, involving a spell designed specifically to kill someone whose soul had been split. After everything that happened we didn't want to trust it or the source, so we tried the spell on a number of different things and nothing happened. In the end it was only because he reminded us that Dumbledore had trusted him and we had nothing else that was certain to work, that we took it on faith. We were right; it did work. Without that spell, we'd have been left using the killing curse, but there'd always be the chance that someone would attempt to resurrect Voldemort's body and use necromancy to bring him back. Snape saved us all. He was working for us the whole time."

There was silence in the room. "But he killed Albus," Molly insisted.

"That's right," agreed George.

"I know," Harry replied. "But he was dying anyway. He'd attempted to destroy one of the Horcruxes and in the process damaged his hand beyond repair. He'd also been poisoned whilst undertaking the retrieval of another Horcrux and I don't think he would have survived the combination of both."

Harry took a moment to gather himself, residual guilt for his part in Dumbledore's death still present.

"I think he asked Snape to kill him so Draco wouldn't have to. Snape had been working pretty closely with Dumbledore during the year trying to heal his hand; he knew what Dumbledore was doing and he knew about the Horcruxes. Draco tells me that they had both been researching a way to kill Voldemort after we'd destroyed the Horcruxes."

"And you believed him?" asked Remus, incredulously.

"Not at first, no. But then Draco knew about the Horcruxes, too, and as far as I know we three were the only ones left alive who knew what they were." He indicated Ron and Hermione and himself. "He also knew the spell, and seeing that it came to us from Snape, only someone working with him would have also known it. I hardly think Snape would have informed Voldemort or the Death Eaters of the spell, do you?"

There were a lot of doubting faces around the table and Harry knew he'd have to let them think things over for a bit before they absorbed it properly.

Eventually, Harry went on to explain about events of the past few days and how his life was once more in danger, which made Molly look at him, concerned. He didn't reveal that he'd taken Draco from the Ministry building, though, nor did he tell them what had happened to Draco during the war.

When he came to the story of the victims he'd seen in St Mungo's, Hermione's eyes filled with tears, though her jaw was set, determined to help in making a difference. A determined Hermione made a formidable opponent and Harry smiled; those in charge wouldn't know what hit them when Hermione struck.

"It was awful," Kingsley confirmed. "I never thought that a hospital would condone such inhumane treatment. And there's nothing on their files about the patients being restrained like they were, so unless someone actually sees it, they can deny all they like."

"Makes you wonder what the poor dears in Cornwall are going through," said Molly tearfully, sniffing into a handkerchief.

"It makes it even more imperative that we succeed in getting the use of this potion banned," said Hermione. "Harry, do we know when the story is going to appear in the paper?"

"I can answer that," Kingsley replied. "I spoke to Sully after some files mysteriously disappeared from my desk." He winked. "Apparently, the day after tomorrow. He said he needed time to get to 'know' some of the victims to write a decent story. He plans on doing one victim each day."

"Wow, that's a lot of work," said Harry.

Kingsley nodded. "He believes in this cause, Harry. Says he'll do whatever it takes to change things."

"Do you think he might need some protection? I'm not talking about official protection, because I hardly think the Ministry would be happy to protect someone that is going to blow the whistle on their practices," said Harry. "But we could put someone with him for a while at least."

"There is that," agreed Kingsley. "But the real question is how long will the Ministry wait before asserting, or attempting to assert some control over the newspaper and getting them to withhold the story? Sully might only get the chance to print one or two issues before being 'forcibly' shut down. The Ministry think they have been very lenient in letting him continue to operate, but if he pushes it with this story, then he'll find himself not receiving the same leniency."

"I can talk to him and see if he's happy to have one of us tagging around after him," Remus said. "I don't have a job to protect."

'Thanks," Harry said, nodding. "That reminds me, Kingsley what about the nurse on that ward; she'll know that you had been in to see the patients…"

"I took the liberty of altering her memory slightly," he said. "She won't remember anyone being there. I don't like it, but I think the time has come when we need to start making a stand about the unethical practices of the Ministry. Unfortunately, to get it done means I have to resort to a something unethical myself. So, we had better succeed and it had better be for the overall good of our society," he stressed.

"It will be," Hermione insisted confidently. "How can it not be?"

"It still feels like we should give this peacetime administration time to get its act together before we start undermining it at every opportunity," Arthur said, worriedly.

"To a point, I agree, dad," Ron piped up. "But unless something is done right now, then Malfoy, much as I dislike him, might end up a vegetable for no valid reason that we know of, and it's not right."

Hermione linked her arm through Ron's, rested her head on his shoulder and looked up at him lovingly. "When did you grow up?" she said, smiling.

Ron blushed. "You and Harry got through eventually," he admitted grudgingly.

"Good." She smiled again and then sat up properly. "Now we need to hope the use of Harry's name ensures that the story is picked up by the bigger newspapers and it gathers momentum that way," she added.

"Well, we'll have to wait until the story comes out to do anything more about it. I suspect that once it does come out and he uses my name, any press conference I attend will include a multitude of questions on it in any case. Hermione, if Peter Sully or one of this other staff members can be at the next one and raise questions, it will help, too." He looked at her and she nodded. "It does raise one huge problem." Harry stood and paced a little, thinking. He wasn't happy with the solution he'd thought of and he hoped that some of the others could think of a better one.

"Once it become public knowledge that I'm part of exposing the treatment of those patients and against the Ministry, I think Scrimgeour will decide to remove Draco to Azkaban. I can't let that happen; yet I can't just hide him myself. Not that he wants to run, anyway, he really wants to clear his name and live his life free. Any suggestions?"

From the looks of those around him, and the silence, there were still a few that doubted Draco really deserved their help. He sighed, disappointed, though it was understandable. "Ok," he said. "What is everyone thinking?"

'You're taking an awful lot on faith, here, Harry. You've never trusted Malfoy before, why now?" Arthur asked. Harry looked at his kindly face, lined with grief for the loss of Charlie and fighting to hold the need for vengeance back.

"Yeah, Harry," agreed Kinglsey. "It all seems rather flimsy to me, actually. Had you been working as an Auror for me, I'd be saying that there definitely wasn't enough evidence to support your opinion."

"It's really hard to explain," Harry respectfully replied to both of them.

"Come on, try us," George said. "You never liked the pointy git before."

"He's…different. The things that happened to him during the war – seeing the differences between the last time I saw him at school, and now – it's like two different people. It's knowing the type of person Snape was and how he worked. There is no way Draco would have had the knowledge he has about Horcruxes and the spell we used to kill Voldemort, unless Snape told him. We all know what Snape was like and how disagreeable he was, how good he was at his job of spying for the Order. He evaded detection by Voldemort for seventeen years, there is no way someone like Draco could have found out what he was up to."

"You're right about Snape," Remus said. "It's all so difficult to take in." He ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "Snape working to Dumbledore's orders all along and still spying for the Order and then discovering the spell that saved us all...it's almost unbelievable. "

"Perhaps we should give the boy a chance," Molly added, softly. "When Harry told us about the poor boy being beaten, I-"

"Have you all forgotten that that his actions resulted in this?" Bill hissed at them all, pointing to his face.

"Draco didn't do that to you, Greyback did," Hermione replied.

"Or that he almost killed Ron?" Bill continued.

"No one's forgotten that," Arthur said. "But even Ron thinks that we should help Draco, don't you, son?"

Ron looked around at everyone, and nodded. "Like I said before, he's still a git and I still don't like him, but if he's telling the truth and he was helping Snape, then he deserves another chance. What's happened to him...well...it's just not bloody right."

The smile on Hermione's face lit up the kitchen, and she leant into his side, kissing his cheek again and making him blush once more. He wrapped his arm round her shoulder and she fit under there snugly and happily.

"That's all very well for you, but I have to live with the effects of Greyback's attack for the rest of my life. I'm not so quick to forgive." Bill sat there with his arms crossed, face set hard and unforgiving, and scars burning red.

Harry realised his mistake, now. He'd arrogantly assumed that seeing the Weasley's had helped him so much during the war, that they would just go along with what he thought was right, now. But then and now were different times that required a reassessment of priorities and alliances. He sighed and nodded.

"I can understand that. I'm sorry, I won't ask you for any more help."

"I didn't say I wouldn't help. I don't actually agree with the Ministry about using _Veritaserum_ like they have been and I'm quite willing to help get that stopped. And I'll help protect you as well, just don't ask me to do anything specific for Malfoy." Bill was still frowning, but he was quite firm in his support.

"Thank you, Bill."

"Anyway, Harry, that doesn't solve the problem of Scrimgeour removing Draco to Azkaban when he hears of your 'disloyalty'," Remus said, getting them back on track. "Did you have a plan to counter that?"

"I have one, but I was hoping one of you would come up with a better way," admitted Harry.

"Short of topping the old bloke –" George started.

"Or using an old reliable _Imperius_ on him –" Fred added.

"What other plan is there?" George finished.

To be honest, Harry hadn't even considered those two solutions. Perhaps his idea wasn't as bad as that after all.

"I don't think we need to resort to that," said Kingsley, frowning.

"Certainly not!" Molly looked at the twins crossly. "Arthur and I bought you up better than that!"

"Give over, woman," George retorted, rolling his eyes.

"As if we'd do anything like that?" Fred said, aghast.

"What does she take us for?"

"Alright, boys, that's enough," Arthur interrupted, and the boys smiled, having been teasing the whole time.

"You'd think she'd learn by now," George muttered to Fred under his breath, while Harry was grateful for the diversion.

"What about if we ask Sully not to use your name?" Hermione suggested, but Harry shook his head.

"No, I gave him my word, and I don't intend to go back on it," he replied.

"Maybe just until we find the diary and hopefully clear Malfoy?" she pressed.

"As much as I hate to say it, I just don't think the story will have enough credibility and will be too easy to deny unless it does have my name in it. If it were one of the larger publications, then they'd already have a huge following, which gives any of their stories a sort of authenticity. Peter's paper is on the fringes, almost underground and they just have no clout yet, apart from being a pain in the Ministry's arse."

"We're going to have to have something on Scrimgeour that we can use as leverage," Ron said.

Exactly what Harry had been thinking. Not that it was a preferred course of action, but it was better than the alternatives.

"I can ask around," Arthur said. "There's bound to be someone who knows something shady about him. And I'm sure there is underhanded dealings where he is concerned."

"You're condoning this, then?" Remus asked, shocked.

"What choice do we have? Let a corrupt Ministry hide what they're doing? Let more poor fools be rendered brain damaged after being forced to take _Veritaserum_?" Arthur responded.

Remus blanched visibly; Harry thought maybe he'd remembered what they'd talked about the other day. Reluctantly, he nodded.

"Besides, we won't actually use it. Eventually, I think Scrimgeour will actually be a decent Minister; he just has a lot of cleaning up to do. The Wizengamot can decide that in any case. We just need some time to find that diary," Harry said, raising his glass to his lips and draining his pumpkin juice.

"Continuing on," Harry said when he was done. "We need a way to be able to communicate with each other quickly. Owls are too slow and firecalling is inconvenient at times. Fred, George, do you have any gadgets in that bag of tricks you have?"

"As it just so happens, we do, Harry." Fred looked at George and they both winked at each other, smugly.

"We don't have enough on us at the moment," Fred said, pulling up the sleeve on his jumper, revealing an ordinary looking wristwatch.

"These," began George, "look like Muggle watches –"

"And that's where we got the idea from," Fred continued as he undid the watch. "Although, admittedly we did start researching a shoe phone because what better place to hide a way of communicating with someone else, right? But we realised that it would look completely conspicuous and out of place in the Wizarding World. Muggle spies might be able to get away with it, but not a wizard. So, -"

"We added a nifty little charm to this watch, so that it tells the time, too –"

"To make it functional, of course," Fred interrupted.

Fred passed the watch around and George took off his own watch.

"It's a charmed closed set of communication devices. All you have to do is set the hands of the watch to receive and send to a specific person. When you move the hands to that time you can talk to them as if they were in the same room."

"We've been testing them for the Ministry, the Unspeakables, and they're not perfected yet, but we can set them up for all of us and they should work. We've not had any trouble with ours so far."

"Brilliant," Harry said, taking one of the watches and inspecting it. For all intents and purposes it looked like an ordinary sort of analogue wristwatch; a black leather band, silver backed with a plain white face and black hands. The twins' invention skills were quickly becoming an integral part of this mission. Harry had to laugh at himself. Mission? It was a mission, now? Perhaps.

"Blimey, you two," Ron exclaimed, impressed.

"How soon can you set these up for us?" Hermione asked.

"This afternoon," Fred replied and George nodded.

Harry spotted Remus frowning and looking at the watch as it lay on the table, being careful not to touch it. "Er, Fred," Harry said, nodding toward Remus.

"Oh, don't worry Lupin, we've got all sorts." Fred assured Remus.

"We'll find you a nice gold one. Right smart that will be," added George.

The next few minutes were spent discussing the new communication devices with the twins giving a demonstration of how theirs worked. When they'd all marvelled over the inventiveness of the twins, even Molly indulging in a rare compliment about the line of work they'd found themselves in, Harry turned to Kingsley.

"Any word on the whereabouts of Coghill?" he asked.

Kinglsey shook his head. "He seems to have gone to ground. We've had Hoxley under surveillance, but he's keeping his head down. We're putting him through retraining, hoping that will teach him the right way to do things. But of Coghill, there's nothing I can tell you, Harry, I'm sorry. We're just going to have to keep looking for him and you'll have to be on alert, especially with the Ministry functions you have coming up."

"If they still want me after the newspaper comes out," Harry said, disappointed that Coghill hadn't yet been caught, yet still optimistic, and with more important things on his mind.

"I think we should assign someone to be with you at all times," Arthur put in.

"Yes, dear," Molly added. "You should have some protection."

It was the last thing Harry wanted, as he intended to spend most of his days looking for the diary until it was found and he had Draco to think of. They had a point though. "I'm going to be at Spinner's End for the next few days and safe, out of the way. I'll agree that when I'm in the public eye I should have some, but not here, nor Spinners End."

"But what's to stop him finding out you're there and attacking you while you're there on your own?" Ron asked.

"I won't be on my own. I was hoping Hermione would come and help me search."

Hermione's eyes lit up at the thought of scouring Snape's library and she nodded enthusiastically.

"But she's hardly –"

Hermione turned her eyes on to Bill and glared so hard that he backed down.

And that, it seemed, was that. Slowly they all dispersed after working out that Bill and Arthur would attend Harry's next public appearance, which was the next day, and that the twins would have their communication devices ready by this evening.

* * *

After a quick lunch, and packing leftovers and drinks into a basket, he and Hermione Apparated to Spinner's End.

"Before we go inside," Harry said as they walked across the street. "There's something you should know. Draco's inside."

Hermione stopped in the middle of the street and looked at Harry with her mouth hanging open. "What did you say?"

"I said, Draco is in there. He wanted to help look, and after seeing those poor people in the hospital and knowing that if we can't stop this he might end up like that, I just couldn't leave him in that cell all by himself."

"I don't care what you thought, Harry," Hermione said, angrily, her fists clenched and by her sides. "We're all risking our lives for that…boy… and if he escaped or if anyone found out that he wasn't in his cell then we'd all end up in Azkaban. Did you even think of that?"

"He's not going to run and there are strong Glamours on his cell. The guards know not to disturb him during the day. There's so much I haven't been able to tell you about him, but, please, if you trust me at all, please don't tell anyone."

"Oh, Harry who would I tell?" She sighed and gave him a long look. "You can't seem to stay away from trouble can you?" she lamented. "People who need rescuing just seem to find you." She was quiet for a moment. "He's really changed?"

Harry nodded. "He's been through so much, Hermione, you wouldn't believe it."

"I'll give him a chance," she said. "Seeing as I'm fighting to save his miserable life, I may as well."

Harry hugged her. "Thanks."

Harry opened the door to silence. "Draco?" he called.

No answer. The secret door though to the bedrooms was slightly ajar. "Maybe he's showering," Harry said.

"And maybe he took advantage of your good nature and ran off," Hermione said, shaking her head.

"No," Harry insisted and grabbed Hermione's hand and walked through to the bedroom.

When they entered the bedroom, Harry saw Draco lying on the bed with what looked like a photo album across his chest. He appeared to be asleep, but as Harry neared, he noticed the tear tracks down Draco's cheeks.

"Draco?" he called and the blond jumped and sat up, surprised, and frowned when he saw Hermione. Harry thought it was a frown at being caught in tears by someone like Hermione whom he'd always hated.

"Potter, you scared me. Ever heard of a bit of warning?"

"Nice to see you, too," he said. "You alright?"

"Of course." He looked away and surreptitiously wiped his face. "I just found some old photo albums of when I was a child. Severus used to come to our family Christmas parties." He paused, looking back down at a photo that Harry could see was one of a small boy jumping over a much younger, though no less greasy Severus Snape. Draco's finger traced the contours of the small boy's face. "Things were a lot simpler then. I still believed that my father loved me and would always protect me from anything bad."

Harry let go of Hermione's hand and sat down on the bed next to Draco. "You look like a pretty cute kid," he said, smiling.

Draco smiled. "I was. I still am, I'll have you know." He may have been smiling but his eyes were still filled with tears, which he furiously blinked away, clearly annoyed with himself.

"Yeah, right," Harry joked, nudging him with his shoulder. He glanced over to Hermione and saw her with a frown of compassion on her face and a knot inside him unravelled. Things would be all right. "Do you want to come and have some lunch and update us on how your search went this morning?"

Draco nodded. "Would it be all right if I kept this photo, do you think?" He looked up and only then seemed to realise that Hermione was still in the room, too. "Oh, hello," he said, politely.

"Hi, Draco," Hermione replied.

"Come on, lets get Draco some lunch and we can talk."

In the kitchen as Draco unwrapped sandwiches and ate slowly as his body was still recovering from near starvation, they chatted about what Draco had found so far. Hermione and Draco hadn't said anything to each other apart from hello, but there seemed to be an unspoken truce between them. She whispered to Harry that Draco had taken a few steps up in her estimation by still being here. Harry thought he would give them both time to talk to each other this afternoon.

"Lots of really old _Witch Weekly_ magazines, but no diary and what's worse, no porn, unfortunately," said Draco, with his hand over his heart in a melodramatic pose.

Harry laughed. "Oh, you poor thing."

"Whatever will I do without my porn?" Draco carried on. "Although I am really glad I didn't find any more pictures of your mother."

Hermione startled and Harry told her about the photo in the bedroom.

"Enough talk about your mother, Potter, I want to talk to you about getting me some porn, seeing as you –"

"I'm not getting you porn, Draco. You'll just have to…use your imagination."

"So hard done by," Draco lamented. "I suppose I will have to redouble my efforts to find this diary, then and hope that Severus will have had some secret porn stashed away."

"Oh, so that's why you're so keen to search for this diary," Hermione joked. "You want his porn."

"Oh no," said Draco, completely deadpan. "I'm only doing this so Harry can do his saviour thing and then shag me silly, like sleeping beauty."

Harry choked on his juice. If he hadn't been so mortified by that statement, then he'd had fallen off his chair at the look on Hermione's face.

But once more, he found he had nothing to say to that. Only this time, he didn't find it as distasteful a thought as he had a few days ago.

tbc


	13. Issues of Exposure

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

* * *

Author's notes: Not much to say, other than, yay! another update so quickly!

Enjoy and review!

Jamie

xxx

* * *

Chapter 13. Issues of Exposure.

"I think you should tell Ron and the others about Draco," Hermione whispered to Harry later that day before dinner.

They'd spent another fruitless day searching for the diary and he'd reluctantly left a despondent Draco in the cell, alone, while he returned to the Burrow for dinner and company.

"That way, when they get over yelling at you for taking such a risk, you might be able to sneak Draco in here for some decent food and someone to talk to. There's none here that would treat him badly. Bill's rarely here, Molly would love another person to mother and Draco needs some mothering," she finished and then laughed. "I never thought I'd hear myself say that Draco Malfoy needed some pampering. What has the world come to?"

Harry laughed, too; it really was ironic. And Hermione was more right than she knew. Harry could feel how Draco cried out for some human contact – nurturing contact, not contact designed to abuse or manipulate or humiliate. It could also explain this crush Draco seemed to have on him.

"Yes, I think you're right," he said. "I'll mention it over dinner."

"Hey what are you two whispering about over there?" Ron asked. "You're not trying to steal my girl are you?"

"I might be, you never know," Harry said, grinning cheekily.

Hermione thumped his arm, though not hard. "Harry, you're like my brother!"

"Oh, so I should steal Ron, then should I?" Harry joked back.

"Well if redheads are your type," Ron said preening and joining in the joke.

"Thought you didn't like that sort of stuff," Harry said, looking at Ron with a question in his expression.

"Hermione got to me there, too," admitted Ron, blushing. "Long as you don't fancy me, what do I care who you, er, want," he finished awkwardly.

"Ron," Harry started, shaking his head, perplexed. "I have no idea why you still think I'm gay."

"Well," Ron started, stumbling and looking guiltily at Hermione. "I don't, not really, but I mean if you were, then I'd not have a problem with it."

Hermione smiled at him and Harry just stared at both of them. It hadn't escaped his notice that he hadn't denied it this time. But, no, he didn't think he was gay; he liked girls. He liked the way they looked and their soft curves and secret warm places. Then again, Draco's quite obvious devotion was growing on him more and more each day. And when he took the time to think about Draco, the expressions he saw on him these days were much more attractive than the haughty sneers of the younger Draco.

"Right, well, thanks, Ron," Harry finally said. Molly saved any further awkwardness by calling them for dinner. Relieved, Harry quickly stood and headed to the table.

.o0o.

Dinner and the revelation went about as expected. Most everyone argued with Harry and disputed his decision making skills. Hermione stepped in and played peacemaker by adding her support to Harry's actions, though not without admonishing him first for not taking proper precautions the first time he'd had Draco out of the cell.

After dinner, Harry contacted Kingsley through the new communication devices the twins had presented them with. Harry rather thought that he didn't need a communication device to be able to hear Kingsley yelling. He would only have to stick his head outside and he'd be able to hear him all the way from the Ministry.

"Your name is only going to get you so much lenience, Harry," Kingsley warned after he'd calmed down a little. "My job is already on the line, here, I'm walking a damned tightrope as it is. I shouldn't know about this, you're undermining my authority and showing no respect for the Ministry at all. I'm really disappointed in you."

That hurt Harry more than anything; more than the yelling and more than the distrust of his judgment – this was Kingsley feeling let down for trusting Harry's judgment. He hung his head.

"Your own head is going on the block for this one, Harry. If anything goes wrong, and I mean _anything_ you personally are taking the responsibility for it."

Harry rushed to nod in agreement. "Of course. I always did accept the responsibility."

Shaking his head, Kingsley sighed. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I'll put a couple of Aurors on his watch that I know have no love for the Ministry. They at least might be able to give you some warning if things are about to go terribly wrong."

"Thank you, Kingsley." It was more than he could ever have hoped for. They'd still need the Glamours and the heavy wards, but if things did start to deteriorate, he would be warned and maybe have time to get Draco back into the cell.

"Don't let me down, again, Harry," he warned and Harry nodded.

"I won't, I promise."

"And you tell that Malfoy that if he puts a foot out of line, I'll send him to Azkaban myself."

Harry didn't need to hear "and you can both share a cell" to know it was implied if anything went wrong.

.o0o.

"So, you're heading out to Hogwarts tomorrow?" Ron asked later, sitting himself down on the couch beside Harry and handing him a cup of tea. Harry nodded.

"Don't worry, I think Tonks and Bill are on guard duty," Harry said, recalling the schedule they'd organised. "The Board of Governors have decided to hold everyone back a year seeing how disrupted by the war their education has been, so they're announcing it tomorrow at the school. They've appointed Professor McGonagall as headmistress, did you know that?"

Ron nodded. "Dad mentioned it. He's got a seat on the Board this year. I think they decided that there had been that many Weasleys go through the school it was about time we had a say," said Ron, laughing.

"Well you'll have one more year there and Ginny, two, so there'll be a Weasley there for a couple more years."

"It will be weird going back there, though, mate," Ron said. "But Hermione will go spare if I don't go back and finish my schooling."

"I'm kind of looking forward to it, to be honest."

"How so?" Ron asked, curious.

"To escape from all this…crap. I'd rather just go back to being 'Harry'."

"Well, first we have to deal with this latest crap," Ron answered, shaking his head. "You really do have a saving people thing, don't you?" There was a smile on his face as he said it, though, and Harry shrugged.

"I think they just find me somehow," he said. "But I must be the best person I know at making mortal enemies – the kind that want to kill me, anyway."

"It's the scar, mate," Ron replied seriously, and then broke out laughing. Harry joined in, wondering when was the last time he'd laughed. "So, just another day in the office – change the law, take out the bad guy and save the damsel in distress. No big deal, no pressure or anything, mate."

Harry laughed. "Draco's a damsel in distress? I'm sure he'd love to hear you say that."

"Ahh, it's just a saying," Ron said elbowing Harry in the ribs. "Besides, he is a poncy little ferret, isn't he? And Hermione tells me he has the hots for you."

Harry gaped. Ron continued. "She told me when she came back this afternoon. Right before she got on my back about he whole gay thing." Ron scratched the back of his neck, which he was wont to do when nervous. "She reckons that it was obvious he really likes you and that we shouldn't be surprised if you like him back."

Harry thought Hermione deserved a medal if she'd managed to talk Ron through his homophobic tendencies so quickly. Although she probably had evil dastardly methods that he'd really prefer not to know about, to get her way. "And what would you think if I did? I'm not saying I do, but if I did?"

Ron looked uncomfortable. "Mostly, I'd think you needed your head read but, in the interests of friendship, I'd adjust. I'd trust you to know what you're doing, after I had Hermione check you for every hex and curse and love potion known to man, and I'd adjust."

Harry inclined his head acknowledging the comment. "To be honest, I don't know what I think, right now." Harry took off his glasses and ran a hand over his face, tired. "He's been through so much, it's not surprising that he has changed. And Hermione's right, he does have some sort of crush on me, but I reckon it's just because I'm helping him and he's not had any, um, _nice_ human contact in a long while." That was as specific as he could get without betraying anything Draco told him in confidence. "So, I never thought I'd even consider my preferences, I always just assumed I was straight, but I can't say I'd be worried if I was attracted to a male."

"But Malfoy?" There was honest curiosity in Ron's voice, accompanied by a faint disbelief.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I've not felt the urge to throw him down on the floor and shag him or anything, but there have been times when…there's been… _something_ there that's made me think I might be attracted to him." There, that was out. Harry sighed, as it was something he'd barely even admitted to thinking about and now he'd blabbed it to Ron of all people.

Ron groaned. "You need your head read, mate," he protested, shaking his head. "You're sure it's not just pity or something because he's in the spot he's in? Like you rescued Ginny and dated her."

"I also rescued your dad and I never wanted to date him!"

Harry laughed at the look of disgust on Ron's face. "I also rescued you and Hermione and I never wanted to date either of you."

"But that's different. We're your best friends."

"Best friends don't fall for each other? Happens all the time." Harry teased and grinned widely when Ron looked at him, horrified.

"You didn't…?"

"No, of course not. But look at you and Hermione."

It was fun teasing Ron, his facial expressions cracked Harry up all the time.

"Bastard," Ron groused and poked him in the ribs again. "Malfoy, huh?" he sighed and slumped back on the couch.

"Dunno, maybe," admitted Harry.

'Think he'll go back and finish his schooling?"

" I hope so. That's assuming we can keep him out of Azkaban and sane."

"You will, mate," Ron said confidently. "I know you and you won't rest until he's safe."

God, it was good to talk to his best friend like this. It felt like so long since they'd had the chance to just relax and chat. And the unquestioned loyalty was something that, if he were honest with himself, really gave him confidence when it came from Ron. It also came with the feeling of responsibility to live up to that loyalty, too, which Harry supposed made it kind of a circular thing. And it was different with Ron than with anyone else expecting things from him. Ron was his best friend, his first friend and that made everything Ron said or did or thought about Harry, have just that much more impact than with anyone else.

"Maybe he could come here tomorrow, for dinner," Harry wondered aloud. "Do you think your mum would mind? I think he really needs contact; really needs people to be nice to him."

"I'm sure she won't mind, mate," Ron replied and got up to go and ask. It seemed to be the cue for Hermione to sit down beside him.

"I have a bit of a bone to pick with you, Hermione Jane Granger," Harry said, playfully.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, where did you get the idea I might be gay? I'm quite sure I never mentioned even doubting my preferences, let alone admitting anything like that."

Hermione looked mysterious for a moment, a 'wouldn't you like to know' look on her face. Then she smiled. "No reason, really. I just saw you two together today and there's a closeness there, some sort of bond between you that's obvious to anyone that knows both of you."

"You don't think that could be because he's confided in me about things that happened to him during the war and he's relying on me to get him out of there?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, there's a gentleness about you when you're dealing with him. You treat him like he's precious, like he'll break if you push him too far."

Harry just stared at her for the longest moment, thinking. If that were true, then maybe subconsciously he'd already discovered that he did have some sort of feelings for Draco. He wondered if they were pity or something deeper. "That could be pity. He's been through a lot," Harry replied, finally.

"I don't think so. You don't do pity very well. Sympathy, yes, empathy also, but not pity."

"And this gave you the idea I might be gay?" Harry still found it hard to connect the two.

"Maybe not gay, but you definitely feel something for Draco that goes beyond the enmity you had in school, beyond a simple truce and, I think, beyond a friendship. You don't speak to Ron and I the same way as you speak to him."

Harry sighed. If it were true, then why was he so damned obvious to everyone else and yet it completely slipped past him?

"I don't know what I feel for him. You're right, it's different than with you and Ron, but I don't know what it is. Maybe I just feel sorry for him." And maybe he was not prepared to admit that there could be something there and have Draco throw it back in his face and tell him he was acting all along. Not that he really thought Draco was still acting, but the niggling worry was always there and perhaps that was what was stopping him from accepting that maybe he could like Draco back.

Hermione patted his knee. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Ron dropped back into his seat again, then and advised them that Molly was looking forward to another mouth to feed tomorrow night.

.o0o.

Hogwarts looked the same as the last time he'd seen it. He spent some time thanking all the deities that the final battle had chosen another castle in which to occur and that the one place he'd really felt at home was still standing much as it always had. It appeared impenetrable and perpetually able to repel any attack, exuding an atmosphere of calm and peace and permanence.

The Great Hall looked fabulous. Someone, probably the staff, had taken great pains to decorate the Hall like a classroom. There were shelves of books lining some of the walls, huge blackboards interspersed between them covered with magically enchanted chalk writing lessons. The tables and bench seats were transfigured into desks and chairs and up at the front of the room, the Head Table was decorated with numerous school awards that flashed and sang and even danced on the table.

They made Harry smile as he remembered Ron speaking about having to clean one that abused his polishing skills, way back in second year.

Professor McGonagall spotted him and motioned him over, greeting him with her usual formal manner. "Mr. Potter, it's good to see you," she said, and Harry could see her eyes smiling, though it wouldn't do for anyone to think the Professor was anything but dour and strict. Harry was lucky and knew her better than most of the students that had passed through Hogwarts as they'd fought together in the Order for so long.

"Professor," Harry responded affectionately, shaking her hand. "Thank you, it's good to see you, too. This is a big day for Hogwarts."

"It is indeed, and I shall expect you and Mr. Weasley to apply yourself to your studies when you arrive. You will have to set a good example to all students."

Harry felt like he was back in school already. He grinned, though, knowing that he'd get no special treatment from her, thankfully. Now he couldn't wait to come back here in September, assuming he completed his 'mission' before then.

"I plan, to, Professor," he said. "What provisions have you made for returning children of Death Eaters?" he asked.

"They will, of course, be welcomed the same as any other children. I'm surprised you had to ask that of me."

She did look a little put out and Harry grimaced. Yes, he should have known that she was cut from the same cloth as Professor Dumbledore.

"Sorry," he said, shamefaced. "Not everyone is being so…fair."

"Narrow minded fools and bigots," she snapped. "I'm quite well aware of that, but here at Hogwarts, any child that requires an education is welcome. The children are not their parents."

"I agree," Harry nodded.

"Then I can count on you to help promote tolerance between the Houses?"

"Of course." Which might be easier than she thought, Harry added to himself. Once Draco was free, he was hoping that he'd come back to Hogwarts, too, and peace between the two great rivals would go a long way to furthering peace between the houses.

"Well done, Harry," she finally smiled at him, before being called away to start proceedings.

Harry sat at the head table and looked down at the assembled reporters, onlookers, school Governors and the occasional Ministry official. He spotted Tonks and Bill at the rear, one on each side of the Hall, calmly surveying the crowd, serious and watchful. And of course, there was Rufus Scrimgeour standing up in front of the assemblage and speaking. His security were at the ends of the Head table, also watchful and stern. Harry let his mind drift away as the official speeches were made, feeling lucky he didn't have to make a speech this time, just show his face. They were basically a repeat of previous ones, where the Minister promised to revamp the Ministry and build the Wizarding World back to its former glory. He didn't doubt that these types of speeches were what was needed right now in order to restore the confidence in an efficient ministry, but it was very easy to drift away when you'd heard it all before, and had better things to think about than Rufus Scrimgeour.

Later, he promised himself that in the future he'd make sure he was respectful enough to pay attention to what was going on around him, because if he had been, then he might have been aware that a wizard right near the back of the room raised his wand and fired off a curse. One he didn't hear seeing that both Bill and Tonks were yelling for him to either watch out or get down.

As it was, it was only the split second warning he heard and reflexes honed during the war, which enabled him to duck far enough to the right allowing the spell to pass his head harmlessly and hit the back wall instead.

Among the screams in the aftermath, and the uproar of Scrimgeour's security diving on him to push him to the ground, then standing around him, wands drawn, Harry had the presence of mind to keep an eye on Tonks whose hair was a flaming blue and easily spotted in the crowd. She was skirting around the side of the Hall to reach the doors. As he found out afterwards, whoever it was, and he was positive it was Coghill, escaped out the doors and down a corridor somewhere and by the time Bill and Tonks managed to meet up, half the hall decided it was time to leave and created a mini panic to get to the door, so he was long gone.

When Tonks returned breathless and frustrated, she advised she'd run to the gates as soon as she was free of the crowd, but it was too late.

"I'm so sorry, Harry, we should have seen him earlier," she panted as she dropped onto a chair beside him.

"He didn't look like himself from what I could gather, so it's not your fault. Besides, the warning you did give me probably saved my life, so I have to thank both of you."

"It's our job," Tonks shrugged and looked towards Bill who was dealing with Scrimgeour's staff.

"Even so," Harry started, but then he watched as Bill nodded at a wizard, shrugged his shoulders and gave him a wry grimace, before making his way back to them.

"Scrimgeour's lot think that the attempt was on his life," Bill said, amused. "I tried to explain about Coghill, but they're under the impression that Coghill is not the culprit here."

"Did you tell them that the curse passed not an inch from my head?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Bill replied. "They seem to think that he was just a bad aim. It fits in with their theory of whoever it was being after Scrimgeour."

"That's a bit short sighted," said Tonks, disgusted.

"I suppose they think that everyone loves Harry; why would anyone want to kill him?" Bill suggested.

"I can see why they would think that. We've hardly taken the Ministry into our confidence. Scrimgeour wouldn't think Coghill would try to get revenge on me for having him reassigned. I bet they don't even know he's missing from duty, yet."

"Point, Harry," agreed Tonks. "They're going to probably be after you themselves tomorrow."

"Hmm, perhaps we can use this attempt today to get me out of any more public appearances," Harry said. "We can say that we're concerned for my safety and when they have apprehended the person responsible for the attempt on the Minister's life then I'll resume my public duties."

"It will make you look like you're afraid of people, though," Bill said after thinking about it.

"But won't that help us, by lulling Coghill into a false sense of security? And maybe next time he won't be as well prepared or he'll be more ready to take a silly risk, thinking me afraid of him."

"I must admit, you don't look too scared right now, Harry," said Bill, giving him a long assessing look.

"Don't they say 'familiarity breeds contempt'? Not quite the analogy I was looking for, but it's happened to me so many times, maybe I am getting used to it."

Tonks frowned at him. "Don't you dare get lazy about vigilance, Harry."

"I won't," he promised, chastened.

"See that you don't!"

Most of the crowd had left the Hall, now. Harry felt sorry for Professor McGonagall's announcement day being marred by an attack on his life. Where the focus should have been on the future and rebuilding; it had become the platform for violence to once more raise it's ugly head. Harry had little doubt that the school reopening in September would have modest coverage in the newspapers tomorrow. Rather, the story about the 'attempted assassination' of the Minster would cover all the front pages. He wondered how it would affect Sully's story that was supposed to be in the I Freedom Press /I tomorrow.

"Anyway, did you get a look at him?" Harry changed the subject back to Coghill.

"Not really. He seems to be good at choosing non-descript people to Polyjuice into," Bill replied. "I gave Scrimgeour's Auror team a description, but it's not likely to help, seeing as he won't stay like that, will he?"

Harry shook his head. "We'll just have to let him think he's scared me off and hope he tries something in a setting a bit more conducive to a fair fight. Tonks, will you tell the Minister that I'll be doing no more public appearances until the perpetrator is caught?"

"Yes. I'll do that now, while they're still here," she replied and stood, walking over to the Auror team and only tripping over the hem of her robes once.

"I'm going to head back to Spinner's End," Harry said.

"Well, you'll Floo from here rather than walk to the gates to Apparate," Bill insisted. "I'm not taking the risk that he's still out there, and I'm sure Minerva won't mind you using her Floo."

He could have argued, but there was no reason to take unnecessary risks with his safety, now, was there? He nodded and stood. "That's probably best."

"I'm going catch up with Kingsley and go through Coghill's file, talk to his neighbours, see if there's any leads to where he might be. I want to catch this bastard and get him off the streets."

Harry looked at Bill when he heard the hard tone in his voice. Bill, on glancing up, caught Harry's look and gave him a tight smile. "Because you're right, Harry, it has to stop somewhere. I can't say I didn't feel some satisfaction when I heard that Malfoy had been beaten up, but then I realised that he's not the real culprit. Greyback is the one who did this to me, not Malfoy. Greyback is dead and I guess I was looking for someone to take my anger out on. That doesn't mean I want Malfoy to get off scott free, but if his year was as hard as you said, then maybe that's punishment enough."

"More than," Harry said quietly.

.o0o.

When he arrives at Spinner's End, he found Hermione going through Snape's kitchen area, searching drawers and cupboards and testing for magical hiding places. Draco was searching Snape's potions lab, or so Hermione told him.

Harry quickly bought her up to date with what had happened at the function and worry lined her face.

"He's getting awfully close, Harry," she said. "And he seems to be one step ahead of us all the time."

"I don't know, it seems rather ad-hoc to me. He waits until I'm in public and has a half-hearted attempt at cursing me. That's not too clever, really."

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe you're right, but I don't like that we can't seem to catch him."

"Well, if I'm not doing any more public appearances, he'll think I'm scared and he'll make a stupid move and when he does we'll catch him."

"I'm just afraid we won't catch him in time, though," she said doubtfully.

"I'll be fine," he replied, rubbing her shoulder. "I'm off upstairs to see how he's going. Do you want to get some lunch? I would have bought some, but Bill bundled me into the Floo at Hogwarts and made me come straight here."

"Only for you," she said, narrowing her eyes playfully. "You behave yourself while I'm gone."

"Always." Harry grinned at her disbelieving look.

He was still grinning a few moments later when he walked into the potions lab and found Draco stretched out on the floor, a pile of books beside him and an open one in front of him.

"Found anything interesting?" he asked.

Draco looked up, startled, obviously not having heard Harry walk up the stairs. Then he gave Harry a smile that stopped his heart for a second; he was sure of it. And Harry could not remember having seen a smile quite like that on Draco's face, ever before.

"Harry," Draco exclaimed, that smile still ripping holes in Harry's chest. A smile that quickly turned into a frown of concern because Harry just stood there staring at him. "What's wrong?" he jumped up to his feet and moved quickly to his side and Harry was unable to take his eyes off him.

Some questions had definitely been answered right there in his response to a simple smile. How ridiculous! He'd never had a reaction like that to a smile before. Blushing, he managed to respond to Draco.

"Nothing's wrong, I'm fine," he said, and was amazed that his voice sounded so normal. He coughed and dragged his eyes away and back to the books. "Hermione's gone to get lunch," he said. "What are you going through?"

Draco turned and looked back at the books. "They're Severus' potions diaries. None of them look like the one I saw him writing in, but then I figured that he might have altered the cover or something, so I'm checking them to see."

"Good idea," Harry said, grinning at him, a little ball of hope flaring back to life. "No luck though?"

"Silly question, Harry," Draco shook his head. "Do you think if I'd found the diary I'd be this calm?"

"Sorry, you're right," he said. "It was a dumb question."

Draco grabbed his wrist and dragged him over to the pile of books. "Here, sit and help me until Granger comes back. And you can tell me about your morning."

"I've never heard of potions diaries before," Harry said as he sat down next to Draco and picked up one of the black leather bound books.

"Most potions masters use them to keep a record of difficult potions, notes on ways to do things better, experimental potions, that sort of thing," Draco said. "Severus was always experimenting with new potions, I'm fairly sure he tried a few different things when looking for a way to help you, too."

There were several books on the floor, perhaps twenty or so and they all looked the same. There didn't appear to be any distinguishing marks on any of them. When he looked inside, he recognised the cramped spiky handwriting from the potions book he'd used sixth year at Hogwarts.

"Tell me about your morning," Draco said.

So, Harry did, mentioning how Professor McGonagall was expecting him to come back to Hogwarts this year. Draco rolled his eyes, but Harry could tell he was moved, by the suspicious brightness in them.

Draco wasn't so reticent about showing his feelings when Harry recounted the attack on his life.

"This has gone too far, Harry, I really don't like you risking your life for me," he said, worry creasing his brow.

"There's not a lot I can do about it, now, Draco," Harry replied and Draco sagged against Harry's shoulder. Harry let him rest his head there.

"I know."

"Look, let's not talk about that, let's just find that damned diary and get you sorted, then we can worry about the other stuff."

"One thing at a time?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded.

Draco sighed and moved, dropping down to lie on his back and resting his head on Harry's knee. He picked up a book and began to read through it, so Harry went back to reading the one he'd chosen, determined not to feel self-conscious that Draco's head was on his knee. While they read, they talked about the rest of the morning's events, too.

Ten minutes later, when Hermione returned with lunch, he was stunned to find that his hand was stroking Draco's hair.

tbc


	14. Issues of Acceptance

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

* * *

Author's note: Finally, an update.

Enjoy

jamie

xxxx

* * *

Chapter 14. Issues of Acceptance

Dinner with Draco at the Weasleys' began with Draco being very subdued. When Harry quizzed him on it, he said he found it hard to believe that they were all being so nice to him and he didn't want to spoil it by saying something thoughtless.

Sitting at the table with him, Harry noticed how he took in everything, from the casual easy banter between Ron and his brothers, to the good-natured ribbing they gave Ron and Hermione every time they hugged or kissed.

Molly had made her stew once more after hearing how Draco had liked it.

"Perhaps, you'll actually get to enjoy it this time," she said, giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder as she placed his plate in front him.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he said, politely, though Harry could see he was trying very hard not to be embarrassed over how ill he'd been the first time he'd had her stew. Harry thought Draco's stomach might cope a lot better with it today.

As the plates passed down the table and everyone began to eat, it became a noisy, happy meal.

"St. Mungo's is letting Dean home tomorrow," Ginny told them, happily. "Mum, can I please go and stay a few days with him and help his mum look after him?"

Ginny looked happy and content and Harry felt only a minor flicker of pain.

Molly nodded amidst everyone telling Ginny to pass on their good wishes. Even Draco added his. Ginny beamed at him and he looked quite relieved. It was doing Draco the world of good just being among people who didn't abuse him. Harry was really proud of his friends; they trusted Harry and they'd come a long way in the short time since the war ended. Harry preferred to think of it as their innate good nature coming through in peacetime, rather than something they'd had to learn through losing Charlie.

Regardless, Draco was beginning to relax a little. He was still quiet but he did join in the discussion on what the expected repercussions of the newspaper article might be. Hermione had checked with Sully and he'd confirmed that the article was all written up and was taking front page away from the attempt on the Minister's life, seeing as they weren't a propaganda machine for the Ministry and therefore had no responsibility to inform a public already doused by the mainstream newspapers with that information.

"Peter suggested that it might be a few days before the real repercussions are felt," Hermione warned. "Their readership isn't that large and to have any impact we need it picked up by one of the popular papers. They're starting with Sally McGregor's story. They think that she will have the biggest impact. Apparently information about her was easy to come by once he started looking and he has statements from her family as well."

"I think a word in the right ear might make all the difference," George said.

"Are you thinking about letting Joanie know?" Fred asked.

As George nodded, Ron asked, "Who's Joanie?"

"A very satisfied customer," Fred replied, grinning, a glint in his eyes that hinted of something more than professional satisfaction.

"Who is also advertising manager at the _Prophet_," George added, elbowing Fred.

"She always said if there was anything she could do…" Fred said wistfully.

"It might do you good to look her up again, anyway. Wasn't she the one with the huge--?"

"Swimming pool?" Fred jumped in with. "Yes." He grinned. "Among other things." He turned to Harry. "Consider it done. After dinner I'll call her and mention that the paper might be interested in the story."

"Er…thanks," Harry said.

"I wish you didn't have to go out on such a limb for me, Harry," Draco added quietly from beside him. "You've put yourself in such danger because of me." Draco's hand crept onto Harry's knee and rested there as his worried face turned to him. What else could Harry do but to cover Draco's hand with his own and squeeze it gently in acknowledgment? He could have removed it then but, for some reason, it felt good to leave it where it was; Draco's slim hand warm under his.

"It just happens to him all the time, apparently," Ron said, eyeing both of them in resignation. "Personally, I think he collects strays, but…"

"You calling yourselves strays now, Weasley?" Draco smirked as he said it but it was an uncertain smirk, designed to let Ron know he was kidding. Harry could see that Draco was trying to find his way into this group dynamic without resorting to being cruel. Ron's eyes predictably narrowed but then, after a second, he laughed. A loud guffaw.

"Bet you never thought you'd be aligning yourself with Weasleys, classed as Potter's strays, did you?"

"Not in a million years," Draco replied. "But for now I'll take whatever label you want to give me if it means I survive."

That sobered Ron up a little, Harry saw. He thought to change the subject. "How about we play some Exploding Snap?" he asked. Almost everyone groaned.

Draco yawned. "Can't you come up with something a little less childish than Exploding Snap, Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes at the playful tone in Draco's voice. "Just trying to lighten the atmosphere," he said.

"Draco, dear, can I get you anything else to eat?" Molly asked.

"Oh, no, thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Draco replied. "I'm full up."

"But you hardly ate anything, dear," she protested. "And you are so thin. You haven't been looking after yourself, have you?"

Draco shrank back a little into the couch then, though he left his hand on Harry's knee. When Harry turned to look at him he saw that he'd gone pale. Harry was just about to say something to Molly to put her off, but Draco spoke up, instead.

"I wasn't in a position to be able to look after myself properly," he replied quietly and looked around at them all. "I suppose I should tell you all what happened to me, then." He said it almost as if it were a question; that if enough of them pressed him he would. Harry wasn't sure he was up to it but it wasn't his decision.

"You don't have to say anything," he said.

"I know, but everyone has been so nice to me and I feel like I owe them something in return, like an explanation."

"They don't need it, Draco, honestly."

"Harry's right, dear. All we know is that it was unpleasant and I'm sure we can all imagine how unpleasant it must have been for you to see your mother –" Molly stopped and looked distressed. "Oh, I'm sorry."

Draco nodded. "It's all right."

"What I meant was that any time spent in the company of Voldemort and that ilk must have been rather more than unpleasant, so you don't need to be going and telling us exactly what happened, there."

Draco leaned sideways a little and pressed into Harry's side. Harry saw Ron shake his head when he saw it and look away ruefully. Harry didn't mind the warmth against his side though, so he didn't move.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Draco replied, sounding relieved.

"I think we should be getting you back to the Ministry," Harry said regretfully. "The longer you're away the more chance there is of being discovered and the Auror team guarding you are already putting their jobs on the line, so we'd better not let them down."

Draco agreed and stood, saying goodnight to everyone and thanking Molly sincerely for dinner.

"You're more than welcome, dear. You will be welcome here whenever you like. I remember your mother back at Hogwarts. She was always so beautiful; it's a great shame what happened to her. I'm very sorry for your loss."

Harry blinked. He'd not been aware that Molly and Narcissa had known each other.

"She was very beautiful," Draco agreed softly. "Did you know her well?"

"No, she was in a different year than I was, but everyone knew who she was."

"I miss her," Draco whispered and Molly gave him a hug.

"Of course you do," she said.

Draco hugged her back briefly and Harry refused to be surprised by anything Draco did these days. Too much had changed.

"Time to go then, back to my plush cell in the Ministry building." He was trying to make light of it, but Harry knew how much he hated it. "I think that they should make it a tourist destination for those who are looking for a survival holiday," he joked. "You know those people who take safaris in deepest Africa, or go on hiking trips in the Outback in Australia, or climb Mount Everest. This could be surviving the Ministry's solitary confinement cells."

Harry draped the Invisibility Cloak over him, tossed some Floo powder into the fireplace and stepped through to the Ministry dragging Draco along with him.

It was quiet down on the cell level, the Aurors on duty still alert but quietly reading books. They barely raised an eyebrow when Harry walked past them towards Draco's cell. Harry removed the Glamours and dropped the wards and they both stepped inside the cell once more.

"Home, again," Draco said, sarcasm making his tone brittle. He dropped down into his bed and lay there with his arm over his eyes.

"Sorry, I know you hate to be here, but I can't do much about that right now."

"Harry," Draco said, removing his arm from across his eyes and sitting up. "It's not your fault, you know. You've done more for me this past week than I could possibly have hoped for."

"Still, you shouldn't even be in here," Harry insisted.

Draco stood and walked over to Harry placing both hands on his shoulders. "If you hadn't intervened, I'd be in Azkaban right now and we both know I wouldn't have lasted in there. I'm very grateful to you, Harry Potter. I think you've saved my life."

Harry blushed, and not just because he was unused to having someone thank him so earnestly, but also because he wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss Draco Malfoy's sultry pink lips. What was wrong with him? In the space of a week he'd gone from hating Draco to wanting to kiss him. And what if all this was just Draco's consummate acting skills after all? What if he did try and kiss Draco and then found himself on the end of pitiless mockery. What if he laughed at him?

"Harry?" Draco asked, the light of concern darkening his eyes. "Are you all right? You look like you were in pain there for a moment."

Harry blinked. "No, I'm all right," he replied. "I was just…" Harry took a deep breath. "Draco, all this… you're not just playing with me, are you?" The blush that flared across his cheeks was hot and he could feel them burning.

"Whatever do you mean?" Draco's knowing voice matched the smirk on his face.

"Come on, I'm being serious here."

"Harry," Draco said, frowning. "I promised you that I would never lie to you, so believe me when I say that I'm not playing." His mouth lifted at the corners in a perceptive smile. "Harry Potter, do you want to kiss me?" he asked with that perfect blend of fake disbelief and husky desire. It made Harry want, for the first time, to throw Draco down on the bed and shag him through the mattress. Something he'd told Ron he'd not wanted. Bugger.

"I might," Harry replied, letting his wandering eyes travel where he wanted his lips to taste.

"I can't remember the last time anyone _asked_ me if they could do that, Harry."

The softness and hint of wonder in his tone dragged Harry's eyes up to Draco's grey ones.

"I'm serious," Draco stressed. "None of them asked. Not that I had a choice, I didn't want any of their foul, filthy bodies anywhere near mine, let alone their disgusting mouths on my lips. The first person in years I desperately want to kiss me has to ask. God, Harry, yes please kiss me."

Draco's voice was ragged with want and as inexperienced as Harry was, even he could hear it. Exhaling an "Oh, God," he leaned in and did just that.

Tentative at first, he closed his eyes and just pressed his lips to Draco's, unsure of how different it would be kissing a boy, letting his instinct guide him by touch. He felt the damp warmth of Draco's lips and sighed softly wondering what he'd been worried about. It wasn't that much different than kissing a girl. Then Draco swiped his tongue across Harry's lips and Harry changed his mind, wondering instead why he'd taken so long to do this.

Draco moved closer to him so they were virtually pressed together along the length of their bodies and Harry suddenly found himself opening his mouth for Draco's tongue while he slid his arms around his waist and pulled him in closer. There was a soft gasp; Harry had no idea if it had been himself or Draco. But it hardly mattered as Harry's tongue woke up and he smiled into the kiss and deepened it earning a groan from Draco who pushed his hands into Harry's hair.

When Harry needed to breathe, he pulled back reluctantly, inhaling deeply. He could feel how hard Draco's heart was beating they were still that close and, looking down at Draco's flushed face, Harry again wondered why it had taken him this long to notice how bloody gorgeous even an overly thin Draco Malfoy was.

"Well, that was…" Draco started.

"Bloody wonderful," Harry finished and Draco smiled up into his eyes.

"Yes. Quite a technique you've got there, Potter. Been practicing much?"

"Oh, lots," Harry replied, laughter building in him.

"Am I going to have to play the jealousy card, now?" Draco breathed, leaning in to rub his cheek against Harry's.

"I doubt it. Ginny's with Dean now, and you saw how happy she is."

"How about you? Are you happy with that?" Draco pulled back and studied Harry.

"I can't say I wasn't disappointed. Now I think about it, though, I'm happy for her and we might stay friends longer this way. And what about you, do you _want_ to play the jealousy card?" There was almost a smirk on Harry's face he could feel it.

"Malfoy's don't do jealousy well. We tend to forget about doing things the right way. For you, though, I think I'd like to try."

"So is this something you'd like to do again? On a regular basis?"

"Oh, yes. I have to warn you, though; I want to go slowly at this. I want whatever this is to be real and I want to be ready to offer it to you, rather than you asking. I know it doesn't make much sense, but…"

"It's all right, I understand. This is all new to me, so I'm happy going slow. And I know there are bound to be…"

"Scars…" Draco finished.

"Yes."

"Can you live with that? Will I be too much work for you? Because if I will be then tell me now and don't let me get my hopes up."

"When have you ever known me to give up on something? This may all be a new experience – I've never kissed a boy before and until very recently, until yesterday in fact, I've always thought I was straight. It might be me who is too much work for you. Let's just take things slowly and see what happens."

"One thing at a time, right?" Draco smiled.

.o0o.

Before it was even light the next morning, Remus was banging on his bedroom door. "Harry wake up! There are several Owls out here demanding to deliver directly to you."

"All right, all right, I'm up," Harry grumbled, sitting on the edge of his bed and rubbing his eyes before placing his glasses on his face. At another knock on the door, he reluctantly opened it and let Remus in. "Sorry," he said. "Late night."

"You look like you had a late night," Remus agreed, letting the Owls in to deliver their packages. Harry watched them drop the parcels on the bed while he remembered exactly what he'd been doing last night. The memory of Draco's lips on his made him smile.

There were four owls; four parcels. One Harry could see was a newspaper, which looked like it might be an early edition from Peter Sully. Upon further investigations this turned out to be the case. He set that aside to read later.

A second item turned out to be a scroll from the Minister agreeing that Harry shouldn't be taking part in any more functions until they had caught the person responsible for the attack at Hogwarts. Minerva had sent him a parcel with the proposed curriculum for the opening of Hogwarts and he put that aside for later as well. He thought he'd have to be properly awake to read that.

It was probably the fact that he was still half asleep that made him forget to take even basic precautions when opening a parcel from someone he didn't know. As he ripped open the packaging of the last parcel, he triggered something within it and a fine cloud of white dust shot out and into his face.

The last thing he saw before the blackness swept over him was the shock on Remus' face and his mouth shouting his name. His last thought was that he might have failed Draco after all.


	15. Issues of Sight

Disclaimer: Not Mine

* * *

Author's Note: Well, I'm getting there...although I think I threw myself a curve ball when Harry tossed himself one at the end there...ummm hehe kidding, I know exactly where this is going!

Enjoy!

jamie

xxxx

* * *

"Look, Remus, he's coming round!"

That was a familiar voice, Hermione if he wasn't mistaken. Harry forced his eyes open to ensure he was correct, wondering why she sounded so concerned. It wasn't until he opened his eyes and found he couldn't see anything other than vague dark blurred shapes that he remembered what had happened.

"Wha…?" It was a pretty poor attempt at speaking, too, but it appeared that was all he could manage right now. He tried to sit up, propping himself up on his elbows.

"It's all right, Harry, just rest. You've had a lucky escape." Remus guided him back down onto the bed even though Harry didn't feel terrible – he didn't hurt anywhere – he was just having trouble seeing and speaking. Not that his throat was sore, so perhaps it was just because he'd been unconscious for some time. How long had he been out, anyway and what was the white powder?

He closed his eyes and tried again, whispering this time. "What happened?"

"That powder you inhaled was a potent, magical form of an hallucinogenic drug. It was lucky that I was able to contact Hermione who found us the antidote in time."

Confused, Harry looked at the dark blob in the direction Remus' voice had come from.

"We don't know who it came from, Harry, but we can guess. I've sent the packaging off to Kingsley to see if they can find anything incriminating on it," Hermione said.

"How long?"

"You've been unconscious for most of the day."

Harry rubbed his eyes. "I can't see, Hermione," he whispered, trying not to panic.

"I know. It's a side effect of getting particles of the drug in your eyes. We're assuming when it is flushed from your system properly, your sight will come back." He could hear the note of worry in her voice and he tried sitting up again.

"Help me to sit up?" he asked Remus, who helped as requested.

"Here, drink this," Hermione placed a glass in his hand. "It's a pain potion."

"I'm not in any pain," he replied.

"No, but it will help soothe the vocal chords and you should be able to speak better."

Nodding, he carefully raised the glass to his lips and downed the potion, managing not to spill any of it out the corners of his mouth. He could feel it going to work immediately and he coughed a little to clear his throat before he spoke.

"I will recover from this, right?" he asked. As long as he knew he'd be all right, then he could get on with the several other things that were more important right now.

"Of course you will," Hermione said. "And we can spell your eyes if they don't come back to full strength so you'll not feel any long term lack."

"Hermione," Harry said, a small grin on his face. "My eyes have never been full strength. If you can do that, you're a miracle worker."

Hermione gave his shoulder a punch. "I'll have you know I've been dying to try and correct your eyes, right from the very first time I mended your glasses."

"So, why didn't you?" He laughed.

"I didn't know how at first and by the time I did, they just seemed a part of who you are so I never offered."

"Well, I don't know…" He tried sounding doubtful. "Not sure I want to let you loose on my eyes, I might start seeing things I've not seen before." He winked playfully; Hermione would be about the only one he trusted with his eyesight.

"Oh, really?" She smirked at him. "Like how attractive you find Draco?"

Oh. That shut off his grin as a warm blush spread across his cheeks.

"What's this?" Remus asked. "Harry, you don't really, do you?"

Damn his eyes, he wanted to look at Remus and try and gauge how he was feeling about that. "Umm, well, maybe?" Oh, what was wrong with him? It wasn't as if fancying a bloke was bad, he wasn't ashamed of it. No, it was just something new for him and he'd hardly had time to process it himself let alone explain it to anyone else.

"I should have seen it, I suppose," Remus replied in a tone that made Harry think Remus was resigned to it, or wasn't all that surprised.

"You should?"

"Wolf instincts. You can't fight them." Harry must have looked confused, so he continued. "One of the instincts of a wolf is to find a mate, so wolves have very attuned senses in regards to mating. I tried to ignore mine with reference to Dora, but she insisted and I eventually realised that my wolf instincts agreed with her. Once I stopped fighting it, I was much happier."

"What does that have to do with me and Draco?" Harry asked, still bewildered.

"Do you remember we fought a lot? Well, I was angry at the wolf instincts for wanting her and I projected that anger on to her. You and Draco did that to each other from the first time you met. There is _some_ sort of bond between you; just for the first seven years of it, you've chosen to fight it, rather than to accept it. I should have seen it earlier."

Hermione chimed in. "What made them stop fighting it?"

"From the pieces of information I've gathered from Harry, I think Draco stopped pretending he hated Harry when he needed him, allowing Harry to see what sort of person he was underneath all that."

"Remus, you're talking a lot of rubbish," Harry tried to protest, but Hermione stuck her big _bossy_ nose in again and overrode him.

"I think that's exactly right. The two of you were always obsessed with each other. It makes perfect sense when you think about it."

"Oh, and the blind as a bat bloke lying here on the bed has no say in it, then?" he huffed, arms crossed.

"What do you think it was, then?" Remus asked. "What is it about him that you find attractive?"

"It was…Oh, no, I'm not saying another word about that." That was personal and, well, he wasn't ready to talk about that yet. He'd barely enough time to realise he was attracted to Draco himself, without explaining it to anyone else. "How long before you know if my eyes will go back to normal?"

"We should know by tomorrow," Hermione said. "I contacted Madam Pomfrey and she sent over an accelerant with the pain potion and that should help flush the poison from your system faster than normal."

"All right," Harry said, sighing and blinking erratically as if blinking would make his eyes focus. It was annoying, really, but not painful. "So, there's been no word on Coghill, then? No sightings or anything?"

"Not a word," Remus replied. Harry could see him lowering himself to sit on the bed, or see a dark shape lowering itself onto the bed.

"This is so annoying!" Harry exclaimed, frustrated. "His half arsed attempts at revenge on me show a lack of planning…a bit of an amateur job, really, and yet the whole of the Auror force can't find him? Are they even looking?"

"They're doing everything they can, Harry, and we have people looking for him too and we haven't found him yet, either."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, it's just I keep thinking one of his incompetent plans to kill me might succeed by accident one of these days."

"We'll get him, but you have to take proper precautions," Remus warned. "That was stupid opening that parcel without checking it first."

"Yes, I know that, I'm sorry, it won't happen again." Harry was very contrite; he felt terrible for worrying his friends like that.

"No, it won't. I've decided that Dora or I will check your mail each morning ourselves before we hand it on to you."

He sighed. "All right. What else has happened while I've been out of it?"

Harry could hear the smug smile in Hermione's voice when she answered. "Today's edition of the _Freedom Press_ has created such a stir, Harry. Fred and George spoke to their friend at the _Prophet_ and convinced her to at least read the article. She authorised a special late edition, of the _Prophet_ this afternoon and guess what was the lead story?"

"Sally McGregor?" Harry asked, smiling.

"Yes. They gave Sully the credit for the story and he's being paid by the _Prophet_ for the rest of his stories. He said normally he wouldn't write for such a paper because he calls them weak as dishwater, but if they're prepared to run all of his stories then they have more chance of getting some real changes made. I spoke to him earlier and he says that both papers have been inundated with Owls in support."

"That's great," Harry said, relieved that so far things seemed to be heading in the right direction. "Was there any backlash against Kingsley for leaking the information?"

"They don't know he did it. There's no proof. Besides, they think they have a crazed killer on the loose that is trying to kill the Minister, and they have no time to be chasing a scapegoat for the leak. They just don't think it's important enough. Yet. Wait and see what happens after a few days, when people start Owling the Ministry direct."

Harry could just see it now, Scrimgeour suffocating under a large pile of Howlers. Or at the very least going deaf. He laughed.

"He's offered me a job, too," Hermione added, and Harry could tell she was excited.

"That's wonderful, Hermione. I wondered how long it would take him to do that. You're going to take it, I assume?"

"Of course! You know me, Harry. Not happy unless I'm using my books and knowledge to be subversive. Try and save the world and all that. Or make it better, anyway."

He held out his hand to her and she took it. "You make it better just by being in it, Hermione." She squeezed his hand.

Harry shook his head. All of this – his life turned upside down, relying on others to fight battles for him while he helped an ex-Death Eater - possibly future boyfriend - and tried to save his life. Which reminded him…

"What about Draco? Did anyone go and tell him why I wasn't there? He'll panic otherwise."

"And that's the best news of the day," Hermione said and Harry blinked. "After we were sure you'd be all right, I went to the cell to tell him what had happened. I thought I'd take him to Snape's and we'd keep looking for the diary, but he was really worried about you, didn't want anything to do with looking for the diary."

"But he hates being in that cell," Harry said, hoping she'd at least taken him decent food and some new books to read. He didn't notice Remus slipping out of the room.

"I know he does and I don't blame him. And he was so worried, I brought him here."

For a minute he didn't understand what she meant and then it sunk in. "He's here?"

Hermione nodded. "Just for a few hours. Kingsley wasn't happy about it, but you know he trusts you and he's working as hard as the rest of us to sort all this mess out, so he's fine with Draco being here for a few hours, but he has to go back after dinner," she said. "He's been sitting by your bed most of the day waiting for you to wake up, he'll be upset he missed it."

Harry heard the door open then and he looked up, not expecting to see anything; it was more a reflex action. He did manage to discern a blond blob on top of a darker blob he assumed was the robe Draco had borrowed from Snape, and his heart sped up while he kept blinking and cursing his lack of focused eyesight. The dark and the light blobs moved closer and Harry felt the cool pressure on his hand of what could only be Draco's hand. His fingers curled reflexively around Draco's and he smiled at the blob.

"That was a pretty stupid thing to do, Potter." The softness in Draco's voice belied his words, and Harry felt even worse. He couldn't afford to let all these people down by being stupid. They had all put their futures on the line, pretty much just on his say so; they deserved to have him thinking and acting sensibly.

"I know," he replied. In the background he heard the soft snick of the door closing; Remus and Hermione obviously deciding to leave them alone. "I have no excuse, I'm sorry."

"You had me worried sick, Harry." He felt the edge of the bed sink and the blobs moved closer until he felt Draco curled up next to him and hugging him tightly. Harry raised his arms to hold Draco, too.

"I'm all right, though, and they'll be able to fix my eyes."

"You shouldn't have to go through all this. If it wasn't for me…"

"Stop, Draco. I'll admit this was not what I planned to do after the war but, now I'm here, there isn't anywhere else I'd rather be."

"Idiotic, heroic, Gryffindor," came the reply, accompanied by lips pressing fiercely to his, demanding he kiss back. Which he did. With pleasure. Several times. He didn't need eyes for kissing.

"Have they caught you up on all the news?" Harry asked when they took a break from the delightful kissing.

"Yes, and those twins of yours gave me one of the communication devices they invented so that you can contact me now, too. I thought it might be a joke at first - you know how those two are, so you can't really blame me--"

"You're rambling, Draco," Harry said, amused.

"I know. I just…it's still hard to get used to not being hated by these people and by you. I keep thinking I should pack as much into the time I have with you, for when it's all taken away from me."

Harry's arms tightened around Draco. "It's not going to be taken away from you. We'll find Snape's diary, it will clear you and you'll be free."

"I'm under no illusions, Harry. I can't see us finding that diary or we'd have found it by now. Snape has hidden it too well. They'll use _Veritaserum_ on me and make me relive every minute of my time with V-Voldemort and even then they'll think I deserve Azkaban for having this mark on my arm. They won't let me go, Harry, I know it."

"We still have a week left to find the diary, don't give up yet. And have you seen the response to the newspaper story? We'll have the use of _Veritaserum_ changed so that they can't give it to you unless you agree to it."

"It's hard to believe that will happen, Harry. I think we'll have to face up to the fact that I'll end up on that godforsaken island regardless of what we do and you know I'll only last a few weeks there at most."

Harry could feel Draco's body shaking, but all he could do was to hold him and insist that he not give up just yet. There had to be a clue to the whereabouts of this diary. Harry just hadn't thought of it yet, that was all.

They spent the rest of the evening laying on the bed, speaking quietly to one another, Harry doing his best to bolster Draco's flagging spirits, while racking his brain for another solution to the dangers they both faced. If only Kingsley and the Aurors could capture Coghill, that would be one headache removed. If only Scrimgeour was a reasonable sort that Harry could bargain with…well at least Harry had been able to do away with his social engagements on behalf of the Ministry while a 'crazed killer' was on the loose attempting to assassinate the Minister.

Hermione ducked in during the evening to tell them she was off to the IFreedom Press/I offices to meet with Sully, and have a tour to find out where she would be working. Harry was pleased at the light in her eyes - the one that appeared when she was passionate about something. It made her fearless and Harry loved her for it. She would make a terrific investigative reporter, crusading for the rights of the downtrodden and overlooked.

Several others also dropped in, some becoming speechless at seeing Draco snuggled up to Harry's side, others, like Ron, resigned to it. Harry was rather proud of Ron for not running way screaming "My eyes!". They learned that Bill was still following the Minister, the twins had had no luck in pinpointing where Coghill was, but they were looking at inventing tracing devices that were undetectable and non-removable, and that half of the old Order team had decided to move back into Grimmauld Place until this situation was dealt with. Molly arrived with dinner on trays for them and did no more than roll her eyes to see the two boys curled up together. Not that Harry saw it but Draco told him later.

While Harry loved spending this time with Draco and getting to know him better, he still felt time ticking away and regretted the loss of the day searching for the diary.

Just when Harry was about to suggest that perhaps it was time for Draco to go back to the cell, Ron burst through the door.

"Come on, Malfoy, I've got to take you back on my way to the _Freedom Press._ Someone's broken in and set it alight and Hermione's still inside."

"Well, leave me here and just go," Draco replied, sitting up quickly.

Harry sat up, too. It was a worry but he was sure that Hermione would be able to escape. She was too clever to be caught in something like that.

"I can't. Kinglsey thinks it was done with Ministry approval. It's a magical fire that Sully is having trouble putting out. Kingsley says that if it was Ministry approved and they're trying to shut Sully up about the _Veritaserum_, then they might do some checking on you and if you're not there, everything we've been doing will all be for nothing and none of us will be in a position to do any more."

"Fuck!" Harry said. "Right when I can't see, either. Anyone would think the Ministry sent me that package." He'd just been thinking out loud and didn't really believe it, but, at the deathly silence from Ron and Draco, maybe it wasn't that far fetched after all.

Well, shit.


	16. Issues of Secrecy

Disclaimer: Not Mine, I am only writing fanfiction and intend no offence.

* * *

Author's Notes: Ahhh, so sorry this took so long to update. I hope you enjoy it.

jamie

xxxx

* * *

In any event, despite Harry feeling useless being stuck without his sight and not being able to go help with the fire to make sure Hermione was all right, Ron returned later with a very tired sounding girlfriend. Grateful as he was, he felt relegated to the sidelines only able to hear their muffled voices from down the corridor and there was too much happening for them to remember to come and let him know. Still, he thought as he rolled over, relief settling him to the extent he thought he could sleep, at least she's safe.

He spent several minutes as he drifted off to sleep pondering the earlier random thought that the Ministry was behind all the attempts on his life. There wasn't a lot of evidence to back that up and he wondered what their motivation could possibly be in wanting him dead – or at least incapacitated. Harry very well understood that Scrimgeour was displeased about Draco not being in Azkaban. He would also bet that the Minister was not comfortable with the thought that Harry could make things look bad for the Ministry if he went public with how badly Draco had been treated. Although, public sentiment being what it was, Harry didn't think that would be enough to warrant the sort of attention he'd been receiving.

No, it still seemed like Coghill would be acting off his own initiative, though Harry was surprised that the attacks had been as easily evaded as they had been. Coghill had never given the impression that he was in any way inefficient in his organising. There could be something in the thought that Scrimgeour hadn't been trying too hard to find Coghill. Maybe they were working together – but why would Scrimgeour want him out of the way? What did he have to hide? Apart from the _Veritaserum_ situation, which to be fair, wasn't Scrimgeour's doing, the practice had been going on for several decades before Scrimgeour came to power, Harry wondered if his off the cuff remark about secrets and skeletons in the closet were closer to the mark than he'd thought at the time.

Harry sat straight up in bed. While he was reviewing what he knew, he remembered thinking that once the newspaper came out with the story on the use of _Veritaserum_ with his name involved, he'd thought that Scrimgeour would renege on his deal and remove Draco to Azkaban. Kingsley had assigned 'friendly' Aurors to guard him, but was that enough? They didn't deserve to have their careers and possible freedom put on the line for someone else's fight. First thing in the morning, he'd contact Arthur, see if he'd had any luck finding something shady about Scrimgeour and try and come up with a way to protect Draco even more.

He was beginning to see there was a distinct possibility that Scrimgeour would be extremely happy should Harry find himself out of action. Or worse. And that could lead to Scrimgeour tacitly, if not actually, aiding Coghill by not allocating sufficient resources to catch him. Now, that made more sense than to think Scrimgeour was behind it all. Still, Harry needed some leverage on Scrimgeour in order to keep Draco safe. Or safer.

Luckily, thinking of that set of problems removed the anxiety about the current state of his sight and allowed him to drift off into sleep. It didn't stop him from dreaming, however. Dreaming of swimming through rough seas to try and get to land. He could see it there, only the harder he swam the further away it seemed. He was calling out for help, gasping as a stitch in his side made him stop swimming and paddle instead. There was no one there to hear him, only a black crow circling above him, fixing him with a beady eye as if he was a tasty morsel and just waiting for him to drown. In his dream, Harry called out, "Can't you do something?" and he wasn't surprised to hear it reply, "The key is right under your nose, Potter, if you'd only open your eyes and see. You have your mother's eyes, did you know?" Not that he could make much sense out of it.

He woke when he felt the water closing over his head and he was going under for the last time.

.o0o.

It was decided the next day, without his permission of course, that Hermione would escort Draco to Snape's and let him continue looking for the diary. She herself would be heading out to help clean up the _Freedom Press_ offices that had been damaged by the fire. Remus took it upon himself to contact Scrimgeour and organise a meeting between them to discuss the recent attempts on Harry's life. They considered it a good time to sound out the Minister about rescinding the law permitting the forced use of _Veritaserum._ If he would do that immediately, then half their fight would be won. Despite this being an overly optimistic opinion, they agreed it was worth the attempt.

By the time Harry woke, everyone seemed to have jobs to do and was busy doing them, except him. His vision still hadn't returned, and if it didn't improve by the time Hermione arrived back, then he'd have her repair his eyes through magic. He wasn't happy about that, as he wanted all traces of the damage from the drug to be purged from his body naturally, not covered over by magic. But there were only four more days until Draco's trial and they still had no way of proving his claim.

He felt useless and restless, not being able to do anything, and as he ate his breakfast down in the kitchen, Molly watching over him like a mother hen, he had some small idea of how Draco must be feeling. At least when Scrimgeour came over he'd feel like he was doing something to help, pushing their cause further.

"More eggs, Harry?" Molly asked.

"No, thanks, I'm not sure how I managed to eat this lot without them ending up all over me," Harry replied.

"It's all right, dear," she responded and whispered something under her breath. Harry felt the telltale signs of a cleaning charm over his face and chest and blushed. Obviously, his eating had not been as neat as he'd thought.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologise. You can hardly be expected to get every mouthful right when you can't see, can you? It only needed a cleaning charm, so don't you think on it any more. I've had enough experience with my boys to know how to wield a mighty cleaning charm. Second nature." He could tell by her voice that she was smiling at him and so he smiled back.

"Thanks. Thanks for taking such good care of me."

"You're like one of my own, Harry, so I'll hear no more of that, all right?"

Harry nodded and felt around for his cup of tea, still only able to see vague shapes, and hoping he'd not knock the cup over and spill hot tea on himself.

"Arthur called in just before you came downstairs. He wanted you to know that he hadn't yet found anything on Scrimgeour, except that apparently, according to his secretary, he received several Owls last week that scared him. The secretary noticed at least one Howler, but didn't think much of it until he didn't hear it go off. Usually the Minister lets them yell themselves out, but this one he didn't."

That was interesting, though on it's own meant nothing. Harry would pre-burn Howlers, too, given the choice, and the Minister must receive several Howlers every week. Being Minister was surely a thankless job. There was a possibility that they were from Coghill, only a possibility, and Harry reminded himself not to read too much into this information. One thing Harry was surprised about was that the Minister dealt with his own Howlers personally.

"Thanks. What do you think of all this, Molly?"

"All of what, Harry?"

"This whole situation with Draco and everyone in danger again."

"I don't know what to think, Harry. I know that we're all doing what we think is right and hopefully it will all turn out for the best."

"Snape had a picture of my mum on his dresser," Harry blurted, not entirely sure why. "Did you know they knew each other?"

There was silence for a while, before Molly answered him. "They did know each other," she said carefully. "Apparently they were close as children. Your mum used to say that she felt responsible for Severus taking the Dark Mark."

Harry was shocked. How was it that he didn't know this? "Why did no one tell me this before?" he asked.

"I don't think people thought it was any of our business while Severus was alive. Albus told us all that we were not to speak of it as it was a personal matter, and then Severus was so surly and unapproachable by the time you started school that it was impossible to even approach him about it."

"You think he might have loved her?" Harry's voice had become very small.

"I think he loved her very much at one time."

"So, why did he hate me so much? Surely it couldn't have been because I look like my dad?"

"You were a very tangible reminder of his failures. If it's any consolation, I don't think the hate was directed at you, I think it was directed at himself, you were just the handiest target."

"Well, it would have been nice to know all this a lot earlier," Harry said, disgruntled. "It might have made a difference."

"Oh, Harry, dear, I hardly think so. You were just a child, you still are, really. You didn't need to be burdened with all of that."

"With all due respect, Molly, I was given the burden of destroying Voldemort and I was a child. I hardly think knowing that my Potions professor was in love with my mum qualifies as something I was too young to deal with."

He wasn't really angry with Molly, it wasn't her fault. He respected the fact that Snape might not have wanted him to know the details, but he could count on one hand the number of people who'd been willing to speak to him about his mother, which was why he barely knew anything about her.

"Be that as it may, Harry, but they're both gone now and it doesn't matter anymore."

Harry knew Molly was only trying to help but it did matter. It mattered to him.

For the next few hours, Harry did nothing but stare virtually sightlessly at the four walls, becoming more and more frustrated at his inability to do anything. He contacted everyone who had a communication device several times checking up on them and talking until they became annoyed at his disruptions. He was allowed nowhere near the mail that came in, though Remus read out some of the letters that supported his stand.

By mid-afternoon, he gave in and called Hermione, surrendering to the need to have his eyes fixed immediately; the inaction was driving him insane, when all he really wanted to do was to find Snape's diary so that hopefully it would have some evidence that enabled Draco's story to be believed and he could go free. Along with ensuring that Draco wasn't made to take _Veritaserum_, and capturing Coghill, they were the things he wanted most and he couldn't do anything about any of them sitting here on his arse, useless.

.o0o.

An hour later, Harry and Remus were entering the Ministry building for their meeting with Scrimgeour. Remus said he'd tried to get the Minister to come out to Grimmauld Place, but his security detail had refused in light of the recent attack at Hogwarts on the Minister. Fortunately, it was late afternoon but before finishing time and so the crowds were smaller, and by being purposeful they managed to arrive at the Minister's office without being accosted.

To say that Scrimgeour was happy to see them was an immense overstatement. Harry wondered if the pressure of the job was getting to him after all; he looked rather haggard and exhausted.

"Harry, Remus, it's good to see you both." Scrimgeour stood when they entered and stuck out his hand. Harry and Remus both shook it in turn as they greeted him in reply, before taking seats in chairs on the opposite side of the massive desk Scrimgeour sat behind. Scrimgeour had a smile on his face, but his eyes certainly didn't reflect that smile.

Harry felt a moment's sympathy for him. It wasn't easy having such a responsibility and feeling like someone was after you while you were only trying to do what you had to. And Harry had thought before that eventually Scrimgeour would make a good Minister, he just needed to settle into his job and clean the Ministry of corruption. Perhaps he'd been arrogant in thinking Scrimgeour had time to worry about Harry's problems in light of the bigger picture.

That thought didn't stop him from his determination to give the Minister more to deal with. Harry had his own priorities now that he'd done his duty to the Wizarding world.

"How are you both?" the Minister asked, though he looked as if he didn't really want to know.

"We're both well," Harry replied. "We'd be better if there was good news regarding capturing Coghill."

Harry thought he detected a slight grimace from Scrimgeour and it encouraged him to press on. "What exactly are you doing to apprehend him, Minister?"

"As you know, Harry, cleaning up after you heroically defeated Voldemort," Scrimgeour started, putting on his politician's face, "has been rather problematical, what with the attempt on my life and the sheer magnitude of the level of corruption we've found inside the Ministry."

Harry didn't doubt it, but there had been nothing in the newspapers about any corruption in the Ministry apart from that which he had generated himself.

"We've infrastructure to rebuild both in the Ministry and in the population in general," he continued. "That all takes time and resources and I'm afraid that the apprehension of one renegade Auror who isn't, as far as we know, doing any further damage, has less priority than weeding out traitors within our very midst."

He gave Harry a hard stare then and Harry nodded. He knew he was pushing the Minister's limits in insisting on Draco being kept in the Ministry cells, in assisting in the leaking of the _Veritaserum_ victims and in claiming the increased danger of attack as the reason he reneged on his deal with Scrimgeour to be the poster boy for the Ministry. Harry sighed.

"Minister, what if we could show you that Coghill was behind the attack at Hogwarts, and his target was Harry, and not you? What if we were to tell you that Coghill has been waging a sustained attack on Harry's life? In the last week there have been several attempts on his life and it is only that they have been ill conceived that they have not succeeded."

Scrimgeour stared at Remus and then switched his gaze to Harry. "This is true?"

Harry nodded. "Obviously it is an attempt at revenge for having him suspended for beating Malfoy."

Scrimgeour's eye began twitching which caught Harry's attention, but the man was otherwise poker faced. But he looked to age even further in the next few moments as his expression sagged and he said, "I'm sorry, Harry, I should have listened to you before. The pressures of this job and the feelings of jubilation we were all experiencing at finally being free from Voldemort's influence overrode my impartiality."

Harry looked at Remus in surprise. This was a shock. An admission that he had done something wrong was unheard of. Harry suspected he'd never get Scrimgeour to admit that in public. Remus' expression mirrored his own. He wondered if he could get the Minister to agree to ban the use of _Veritaserum_ while he was in this remorseful mood.

"We have a number of Aurors allocated to the search for Coghill, of course we do, but we can impress upon them the need for urgency. We can't have the Chosen One being targeted by a vindictive fool, can we?"

"Thank you, Minister" Harry replied. "I must admit that at one point I was wondering if you were assisting Coghill, he seemed to know exactly where I'd be and when I was vulnerable, but I see now I was wrong. I apologise."

"Yes well, it seems we both have done things in the heat of the moment without considering the consequences." Harry could see by how Scrimgeour was recovering his composure, that they were no longer talking about those issues, but rather the issue of the _Veritaserum_ and the articles in the _Prophet_ and the _Freedom Press._

"I don't have any regrets about that, Minister," Harry avowed. "That practice should be outlawed immediately."

"I'm not about to do that, Harry."

"It would be seen as a good will gesture to everyone," Remus argued.

"I can't afford that. I need to keep as many things as possible stable for the public. It's one reason I haven't released the details of the numbers of people removed from their positions. It would destabilise the Ministry."

"I would have thought that seeing their Ministry fulfilling their promise to clean out the Ministry would be seen as a stabilising influence," Harry protested. It didn't make much sense to him letting the public go on thinking that the Ministry was corrupt.

"It does when you see the list of names being removed from their positions. There are too many of them." Scrimgeour was looking more and more like a man who had learned some hard lessons in the last couple of weeks and was going to take time to get used to them but who was determined to do his best.

Harry wasn't sure if, in all good conscience, he could push him further in insisting on removing the forced use of _Veritaserum_. He would have to let the public outcry over the articles do their work, he and Draco were on their own. It made finding the diaries even more urgent.

Remus joined in the conversation. "But you won't be able to keep that quiet for long. The more incidents there are the more chance there is that the information will find its way to the paper anyway. Something of that magnitude always does."

"I am aware of that." The minister nodded. "All employees are placed under an Unbreakable Vow regarding this sweep. It doesn't hold for families, though and sooner or later they will talk to each other and the scope of this sweep will be uncovered, but it is buying us time to finish the sweep and make a clean Ministry."

Remus sighed, and Harry wondered if he was the only one who thought it rather short sighted of Scrimgeour to doubt the intelligence of the public. Secrecy in wartime was understandable but accountability in peacetime made more sense. Then Harry wondered if he was merely being naïve. He had no idea of politics.

It didn't seem like they were going to accomplish anything further here. They'd managed to get the Minister to intensify the search for Coghill, which was a small victory, but they hadn't managed to ensure Draco's safety. Harry figured that was one area he could ask about.

"Minister, you're not planning on moving Malfoy before his trial are you?"

"No, I'm not, but I wish I could. I still think that Death Eater scum should be in Azkaban, but I think today's publicity for your other cause has highlighted how influential you are, so I am disposed to giving you some leeway, seeing as Malfoy was badly mistreated whilst in custody."

"Thank you Minister. And it's only a few days away in any case. I would like to make an official request that he not be forced to take _Veritaserum_." Harry knew it was hopeless but he had to ask.

Scrimgeour just raised an eyebrow. "I don't suppose you will agree to pull the rest of the articles?" Harry shook his head. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't. "Officially, I deny your request."

Harry merely nodded. At least he knew where he stood now. "When Coghill is apprehended, I will return to attending those public functions with you," Harry said, standing and preparing to leave.

Scrimgeour stood as well as Remus and he moved around his desk to shake their hands. Harry was fairly happy. It seemed to be an uneasy truce, but a truce nonetheless. He'd had his doubts about Scrimgeour's honesty removed; he'd had the last days before Draco's trial made free from the threat of Azkaban and thus enabling him to continue the search for the diary and have some small freedom; and he'd had the search for Coghill up scaled.

Back at the Atrium once more, Harry said goodbye to Remus and headed straight for Snape's. And Draco. There was still a few hours left before Draco should be back in his cell.

It astounded Harry that he now felt so comfortable in Draco's presence. Everything had happened rather quickly and he had no idea where it was headed if it was even headed anywhere. But for now it felt right. They were both caught up in this whirlwind of events - a race against death basically - and they both needed someone to hold and cling to. Harry because he didn't want to fail Draco, and Draco because he didn't want to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban, or worse, in Cornwall with the other mindless victims of _Veritaserum_. However they'd come together, for now it was what they had, and Harry wasn't about to question it too much – other than to hope that his aberration of the dream was just as the result of drinking too much and losing his temper, and not some deep seated desire to hurt Draco and humiliate him like that.

An armful of the blond as he opened the door at Spinner's End put an end to that thought as Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's neck and hugged him tight. Harry did like being hugged.

"You can see again! Where've you been?"

"Hello, nice to see you, too," Harry said, laughing as he encircled Draco's waist with his arms and held him close.

"I've been wallowing here all day on my own and no way to contact anyone or even get back to the cell or Grimmauld, and I've been going crazy wondering what's been going on."

Harry shut him up with a kiss. He just knew he was going to discover that was a great way to shut Draco up when he got too wordy. And true enough, Draco did seem to melt into his arms as they kissed and when he finally pulled back so he could breathe, Draco had his eyes closed with a blissful expression on his face. Harry smiled smugly to himself and nudged Draco who opened his eyes and scowled.

"You did that to shut me up, didn't you?"

"Of course." Harry laughed and moved into the sitting room and took a seat. Draco jumped on him, sitting on his lap. "Such a drama queen, Malfoy," Harry said teasingly.

"You wait until you're locked away with no contact from the outside world and the last time you saw your boyfr- er – friend, he was blind and you only have a few days to go before they lock you up forever and throw away the key."

Draco was flushing at his slip, but Harry didn't mind the slip. In all seriousness, if Draco wanted to think of Harry as his boyfriend until Harry himself decided what was to be done, then what harm could it do? If Harry failed then that thought might be all that Draco had to hang on to and what sort of person would he be to deny Draco that?

"All right, all right," Harry said. "It was a bad joke, I'm sorry. But I can see now, Hermione fixed my eyes and I've been to see Scrimgeour and he's agreed not to move you to Azkaban before your trial so at least that's one problem dealt with."

"If only we could solve the others," Draco said flatly. He leaned in and rested his head on Harry's shoulder.

"No luck today so far, then?" Harry asked and felt Draco shaking his head in reply. He sighed and they sat there quietly just taking comfort from each other. All the while, Harry was repeating over and over in his head 'the diary must be somewhere, where would Snape hide it?'

When he finally returned back to Grimmauld Place later that night after more fruitless hours of searching and leaving a dejected Draco alone in his cell, Arthur was there with news that he'd come up with something that could destroy Scrimgeour.


	17. Issues of Sex

Disclaimer: Not Mine

* * *

Author's Notes: ONLY TWO MORE CHAPTERS!!

Enjoy

jamie

xxxxx

* * *

It wad odd, Harry reflected, only now as he'd made a temporary truce with Scrimgeour and was thinking that eventually he'd make an efficient minister, had this supposedly damaging information come to light. He almost laughed at the irony and wondered if he'd be able to withhold the information and give Scrimgeour the chance to prove himself.

Then he cursed himself for his arrogance in thinking he had any right to judge anyone or the power to make some sort of decision over someone else's career and livelihood. He had to stop thinking he was in charge of anything. That way led to all sorts of power struggles and there was no way Harry wanted to go there. He'd just as soon slip away unobtrusively into the background and live his life in quiet peace.

Still, he'd asked Arthur to obtain the information, and having information always enabled you to operate from an empowered position if necessary.

"What have you managed to find out, Arthur?" Harry asked, sitting himself down on a chair around the table in the kitchen.

Arthur was just pouring himself a cup of tea and Harry indicated he'd like one also. Molly added another cup to the four at the table and Arthur poured as he spoke.

"I was having a pleasant discussion with Amelie, the Minister's secretary. I'd noticed that she'd been looking more and more stressed and anxious over the last few days and with what I'd told you about those Howlers, I thought to keep a closer eye on her."

Arthur paused and handed around the cups of tea to Ron and Hermione, Molly and himself, as they all nodded, remembering Arthur had spoken about mysterious Howlers before. "It seems to have worked because she confided in me today."

Harry put some milk and sugar in his tea and stirred, watching Arthur and waiting for the story to continue. Ron wasn't so patient.

"Dad, get to the story, will you?" he exclaimed.

"All right, all right, I will," Arthur replied, stirring his own tea. Harry saw Hermione's arm sneak out to rest on Ron's thigh. "It appears that our Minister Scrimgeour has been having an affair with Wilfreda Hemlock."

"Wait, _the_ Wilfreda Hemlock? The one who is next in line to head the Wizengamot?" Hermione asked, shocked. Arthur nodded.

"More importantly," Arthur continued. "Amelie confided to me that Wilfreda has a distant cousin married to Theodore Nott Snr."

Harry took a deep breath. The Nott family association with the Dark was fairly well known. And while Theo had died in an ambush gone wrong several months before the end of the war, Theo Snr. had been captured in the last battle and was now ensconced in Azkaban awaiting trial.

"I can see a potentially serious conflict of interests here," Harry said, frowning and not a little shocked by this new knowledge.

"Not with Scrimgeour," Hermione argued, "but with Wilfreda herself. She's going to have to be seen to be impartial and fair in the upcoming trials seeing she has connections to the Nott family. We can't be the only ones who know this. It's a wonder she's still seen as the second in line for the top job."

"I think that most families, pure blood families at least, could find someone in their family tree that went Dark," Molly countered.

"So, we don't think this will be a problem for Scrimgeour?" Ron asked, confused.

'If it becomes public knowledge that Scrimgeour is cheating on his wife with a family member of a known Dark family, then his credibility will be damaged." Harry said. "But, apart from that, I don't think it can do any real damage to his career, can it?" He looked to Arthur for an answer.

"It depends on how you look at the situation," Arthur replied. "These things are meant to remain discreet for a reason," he continued and Harry saw Molly nodding. "It's frowned upon; seen as weakening the moral fortitude of the wizarding world, especially among the pure blood families."

Hermione bristled, Harry could see it. "This isn't to do with maintaining blood supremacy is it? Not having children that weaken the blood line, introducing 'dirty blood' to the family tree?" He could hear the sarcasm in her voice and he didn't blame her. Molly was quick to reply.

"No, no, dear. Nothing like that at all. It's just exactly as Arthur said."

She looked mollified at that. Harry sighed and finished his tea. "Well, I don't think that the public need to know about this just yet. I can't see it having any influence over him doing his job and I'm not concerned with his private life. Yes, we could use it as leverage for some minor matter, but I hardly think it's going to work in making his have the laws on _Veritaserum_ changed."

"I agree," Hermione added and Ron nodded as well. Molly huffed and looked cross.

"Is this the type of person we want running our Ministry?" she asked crossly. "The man has the morals of an alley cat. I'm not sure he is the best person to be Minister." She sat back and crossed her arms.

Harry wisely left it alone. There was nothing he could do about it in any case. Releasing the information to the press would only destabilise the Ministry more and make it even harder to achieve what they all wanted.

Besides, if he attached his name to any more 'leaks' to the press, it would appear as if he wanted to take over the Ministry and run the place himself. Which was so far from the truth it was laughable. Some things these people would have to do on their own. As soon as he managed to obtain Draco's release and the articles in the _Prophet_ did their job to get the law repealed, then he was off and out of the spotlight for the rest of his life. He'd done enough, surely?

After bidding them all good night and making plans for the next day, Harry headed to bed feeling unaccountably lonely and wishing he could feel Draco's warm, solid body next to him. He wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to provide comfort and support to Draco, or the other way around.

T_he Daily Prophet, August 17th, 1999._

_Part Three of our expose into the mistreatment of suspects by Ministry personnel._

_By Peter Sully._

_This is the third article in the series about the poor victims of the Ministry of Magic's outdated and cruel law regarding the forced use of _Veritaserum_ on suspected criminals. Today's story hits very close to home and will go a long way to explaining why I, along with many other decent, hardworking, ordinary wizards and witches, are dedicated to having this archaic and brutal law abolished._

_Matthew is one of the many silent victims of the enforced use of _Veritaserum_; one of those you probably normally wouldn't read about because he died. He's a hidden victim; one that the Ministry can sweep under the rug, because he's not here to defend himself, nor is he physical proof of the dangers of this serum._

_Matthew was a twenty-five year old wizard with a pure blood heritage. His family consists of three brothers, all older than himself and two sisters who are younger. The six siblings grew up in a modest but comfortable manor house in rural Norfolk with their parents, James, a chef running the family restaurant, and Mary who manages the gardens that produce the food for their restaurant._

_When it was confirmed in 1996 that Voldemort had returned, several family members immediately signed up to help, ensuring that Mary and the sisters remained safely at home. Two of the brothers chose the Order of the Phoenix while Matthew and another brother offered their services to the Ministry's forces and were stationed in a secret location in London, under the South bank of the Thames._

_After several months of inactivity, Matthew became bored with the semi military style life. Voldemort had all but disappeared and it seemed like the whole thing was as much a storm in a teacup as it was a declaration of war by the forces of the Dark. Unfortunately, the Ministry would not release Matthew and the rest of his team to return home and Matthew became sullen and rebellious, as sometimes happens to young people when forced into inactivity._

_He began to regularly leave his post and associate with many undesirable elements, mostly criminals from the dark corners of Knockturn Alley. As a relief to the boredom he begun providing the rest of his section with illegally made potions, which drugged them and allowed them to forget the tedium their lives had become. Matthew and his bother tried to obtain leave to visit their family, but were refused._

_It was the loss of a brother in the Order of the Phoenix ranks and the subsequent refusal by the Ministry to allow Matthew and his brother to attend the memorial service that pushed Matthew into becoming reckless with his safety._

_When he was eventually caught and interrogated by the Ministry, he refused to give the names of those that had supplied the illegal potions, in fear of retribution. He was prepared to accept his punishment and incarceration, however, the Ministry decided to enforce the_ Veritaserum _law and had several Aurors hold him down while they administered the truth serum and forced the names of the suppliers from him._

_Matthew was fortunate in that he suffered no immediate side effects from the serum, although he feared for his life seeing as he'd had to give up all the information he had on the network of illegal potions suppliers._

_Less than a week into his stay in Azkaban, he was found dead in his cell. He'd been strangled by someone with immense strength and huge hands. He'd fought as hard as he could; there was blood and skin under his fingernails, but he died just the same. His murderer has never been caught._

_Muggles have some hard and fast civil rights when it comes to law. One of which is that everyone has the right to remain silent. The right to remain silent should be a basic human right. Matthew had admitted his guilt, was prepared to serve out his time in Azkaban for his crime, and the Ministry should not have violated this basic human right because they wanted an easy way around finding the evidence themselves._

_Matthew died because of this law._

_You may ask how I uncovered all this information on someone who is dead._

_Matthew was my brother and I miss him like I'd miss a limb. My bother did not deserve to die because of Ministry incompetence._

_If you'd like to see the abolition of this law, please owl the Ministry and voice your opinion. Nothing can change unless we, the people, demand it to change. If we sit by and watch as people die needlessly, or are incapacitated as in the previous stories in this series, then we are as guilty and as culpable as the Ministry._

_In 1995, Harry Potter tried to tell us that Voldemort was back, but the Ministry didn't believe him and many, many people died as a result of their inactivity._

_Will we sit by again and do nothing?_

_Peter Sully_

_Guest Correspondent _

Harry skipped the grainy pictures of a young Matthew Sully, put down the paper and sipped thoughtfully at his coffee for several moments. Being reminded of what things were like during the non-war as he'd termed it always made him feel vaguely unsettled. The familiar slide of guilt through his mind annoyed him; rationally he knew he couldn't have done anything any faster or better or quicker. His emotional side, though, still felt regret and sorrow for each death he'd been unable to prevent.

Sully's story about his brother came at a perfect time, Harry thought. This was a story about a young man who had died as a direct result of this law and it might touch a few more people; make them feel this was too much. There was only two clear days left before Draco's trial. Time enough still to have the law changed. He sighed and reminded himself to never give up hope, no matter how dim it appeared. There was still time for everything and he couldn't give up now. If worst came to worst then he'd offer his own memories for Draco's trial and although that would only go so far in having an ameliorating effect on Draco's sentence, it was better than nothing.

Perhaps the fact that Draco had been beaten while in custody might also help. Harry hated feeling useless and frustrated, and hanging around here casually nibbling his breakfast while he drank coffee and read the paper wasn't helping Draco at all. Sighing, he stood and dropped his cup into the sink for washing. It was too early for anyone else to be up and they all had their own tasks for the day, so there was nothing for it but to get on with his own.

The melancholy feeling from the night before was still with him for some reason and when he entered Draco's cell to find the blond still lying on the bed asleep, he smiled softly and remembered how he'd wanted Draco's solid presence beside him. He looked so young lying there asleep. The way his lashes tenderly rested on his cheeks and the way the worry lines around his eyes and mouth – which an eighteen year old shouldn't even have – softened and virtually disappeared, all made Draco look like a boy. There was no trace of the experience of fear in grey eyes that had seen way too much heartache and pain and terror. It was all hidden behind startlingly innocent looking eyelids.

Mindful of how afraid Draco had been last time he'd woken him suddenly, Harry took care in waking him. Draco for his part stretched as if unaware he was not alone, then suddenly becoming aware of it, snapped his eyes open. He immediately relaxed when he saw it was Harry and he smiled and held up his arms.

"If you're going to wake me from my sleep, the least you can do is give me a hug good morning," Draco said, voice husky from sleep.

Harry smiled back and slid onto the bed beside Draco, leaning in to kiss his cheek before settling beside him and wrapping an arm around Draco's shoulder as he snuggled close.

"Who'd have ever thought a few weeks ago we'd be like this," Harry mused, comfortable and warm with Draco snuggled up to his side.

"I'd hoped," Draco admitted. "It was the only thing kept me going at times, the hope that one day you might see me for something more than a worthless Death Eater."

"I'm glad I do."

"Me, too. Short lived though this will be."

"What do you mean?"

"We have to face it, Harry, we're not going to find that diary. Snape hid it too well and we're running out of time. I'm resigned to the fact that I probably only have a few days left and then it will either be The Kiss for me or Azkaban. And we both know what will happen to me in there."

Harry's arm tightened around Draco's shoulder. "I don't want to hear you speaking like that, hear me? We still have time and I will not let you go to Azkaban. Bloody hell, Draco, don't give up on me now!"

"It's really all right, Harry. I'm better off being resigned to it. It…doesn't hurt so much this way."

"No!" Harry exclaimed, rolling over and lying on top of Draco, pinning him to the bed. "Don't you dare do this! We still have two whole days and I'll not spend them trying to get you to hope again. _That_ is wasting time. Time we could be spending looking through Snape's place finding that diary!"

Harry was completely aware of Draco's still thin body under his and how warm and _good_ it felt. He was also aware of Draco's past and how this might be very threatening for him. He looked into Draco's eyes and saw only resignation and blank acceptance. Damn. That was worse than seeing the fear. It meant Draco had already retreated behind that mask he'd had to perfect while being held by Voldemort.

"Harry, let me go," Draco whispered quietly.

"No." Harry wasn't sure of Draco meant physically or not but he wasn't about to do either of them. Part of him _wanted_ to see that fear in Draco again, just to know that he hadn't completely lost himself.

"It won't make any difference, Harry, we both know that in the end I'll get what's coming to me. I'm a whore of a Death Eater and I don't deserve anything else."

Harry braced himself on his elbows, using his hands to cradle Draco's face. He was worried; he'd not seen Draco this despondent since, well, he'd not seen Draco this bad, ever, and he wondered what on earth he was supposed to do to snap him out of it.

"Draco, please, don't do this to me," he whispered, placing kisses on the corners of his mouth. "I've just found you, don't leave me now." He didn't even care how much he sounded like he was pleading.

"I-I don't want to," Draco replied, closing his eyes at the assault by Harry's lips. "But isn't it better to accept it now than be wrenched even worse when it happens?"

"I don't think you know me very well," Harry said with a soft laugh. "I never give up, Draco, if I had then Voldemort would still be alive. Even when he had me in a no win situation, I still fought." As Harry spoke his voice became stronger and more determined. "Aren't you worth fighting for? Aren't I?"

Draco blinked under him, then and looked up into Harry's eyes. Harry pressed further; there was doubt in Draco's eyes now. "I wouldn't be doing all this if I didn't think you were worth fighting for. I want you free and I want you with me. Isn't that worth fighting for until there's no breath left to fight with?"

"I-I'm not sure…"

"Draco, please. I want you. I never thought I'd ever say that, but, god, these last few weeks have turned my life upside down and I do. Want. You. Don't give up on us, please?"

Draco's bottom lip was trembling and Harry could see the break in his eyes. "Harry," he breathed shakily. 'I'm not sure if I'm strong enough. I'm weak and a coward."

"You're not weak and you're not a coward. You survived Voldemort, didn't you? That took enormous courage, and you emerged relatively sane. I'd have gone completely crazy." Harry smiled and kissed the trembling lips again. "You can do this, just don't leave me before you have to. Please?"

Under him, Harry could feel Draco's whole body shaking. His arms came up and wrapped themselves around Harry clinging to him like a lifeline and he sobbed into Harry's shoulder. Harry just held him while he cried, relieved that he'd dragged his Draco back from the brink. If he were honest with himself, he could understand why Draco slipped into giving up; it was desperately hard to keep optimistic when nothing seemed to be going right. To have escaped from one hell, been given a glimpse of hope, only to have it dashed again every minute they didn't find the diary.

After what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes, Draco stopped crying. At least Harry assumed he did because he'd stopped shaking. Draco's long fingers snuck under his shirt and spread themselves over as much of Harry's skin as they could.

"Is this all right?" Draco asked, voice still thick with tears.

"Yes, but why--?"

"Testing out the goods." There was a self-conscious wry humour about Draco's tone. "Have to make sure that what I'm fighting for is in good working order."

"You don't have to do th-- _Oh_." A hand slid under the waist band of his jeans and there was fingers playing with the coarse hair sitting above the elastic of his boxers. "Draco, isn't this moving too fast?"

"I might not have much longer, Harry. If the worst happens, you'd send me off to meet my maker without having had one shining, pleasurable intimate memory?"

The fingers slipped under the elastic and Harry realised he was hard as Draco's fingers wrapped themselves around his length.

"_God_."

Draco chuckled. "No, just Draco."

The awareness that any lingering doubts about his sexuality were now completely blown away, settled Harry and he gave himself over to Draco's experienced hands. He'd not think too closely at just where Draco received his experience, but rather be thankful that this was given willingly from someone who had no reason to give him anything.

It felt wonderful having Draco's hand on him; different than his own and different than any of the others that had done this. Not that there were many and none of them had been male. So this hand knew what to do with a cock and…_oh god_, there was that little twist at the end of a stroke that always made Harry feel like he was going to explode embarrassingly.

He groaned and flexed his hips, bringing himself into contact with Draco's body and an equally hard erection if that was what he thought it was. For a moment he thought he should slide his hand between them and reciprocate, but Draco shook his head. "No, don't. Not this time."

"You think I want to send you off to your maker without leaving the imprint of my touch on you?" he said, knowing that he would move heaven and earth to make sure Draco survived this trial, but was not above using Draco's own words against him.

Draco's delightful blush made Harry smile and roll them over so they were lying on their sides, face to face. Harry's hand copied what Draco's had done, though he found Draco without underwear. His raised eyebrow earnt him a kiss and a look that warned him not to mention it. But then his hand was full of hard heat, not all that different from his own, though it felt thinner and longer than his.

They held each other's eyes as they stroked, occasionally fluttering shut as the arousal built between them, often biting their lips or leaning in to kiss. Even though Draco's eyes were puffy and his face streaked with tears, he still looked beautiful to Harry. It wasn't until Draco gasped and claimed Harry's lips in a bruising kiss that Harry felt him spasm in his hand and wet sticky come warm his fingers. Watching, _feeling_ Draco come was enough to send Harry silently into the best orgasm he'd ever experienced.

"Now," Harry breathed. "Isn't that worth fighting for?"

"You're right." Draco replied, sounding a hundred times better than he had earlier. "I'm not giving up until my last breath."

"That's better," Harry said, relieved beyond all measure.

Despite the increased sense of optimism they felt from the stimulating hand jobs, their day of searching Snape's house was as fruitless as it had ever been.


	18. Issues of Discovery

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

Author's Notes: Enjoy this...sorry about the cliffy at the end, but there is only one more chapter to go now. And excuse the formatting, this site seems to be playing funny buggers with my header...grrrrr

jamie

xxxx

.o0o.

Harry was woken by a knock on his door. As he reached for his glasses, he called out "Come in." Hermione popped her head in through the door and smiled at him.

"Morning, Harry. Sully is downstairs. I think he wants to talk to us."

Harry nodded, still a bit bleary-eyed and sleepy. "All right, I'll be down in a few." He swung his legs out of bed. "Oh, Hermione," he called as she was about to leave. "I want to ask you something."

Hermione came all the way into the room and sat on the end of his bed. "Yes?"

"What do you think the chances are of saving Draco?" Harry figured 'saving' was the right word now because he was as sure as Draco was that he'd perish in Azkaban. Either that or he'd lose his mind from the _Veritaserum_. It made Harry feel sick to think of Draco in either of those situations.

"I have to say they're not good, Harry," Hermione replied, her kind brown eyes saddened. "I've been looking into the laws on the treatment of prisoners awaiting trial and of course there are laws against it. Back in Grindelwald's time, there were no restrictions on how you could treat a prisoner. Awful things happened to people then, but no one cared because they were all frightened to death of Grindelwald. After he was defeated, the Wizengamot passed a law that put some guidelines into place in response to an underage wizard being badly beaten. The law isn't great, though. It basically says that as long as the Auror thinks the prisoner is trying to escape, they can use force." She sat there, frowning and wringing her hands. "There's no real protection for anyone arrested and in custody while they await trial. And so there's no point in trying to obtain some restitution afterwards, either."

"What about that bloke Arthur was talking about?" Harry asked, horrified.

"Well, he was different. He was denied medical treatment. Bit hard to say he was trying to escape when he was so ill."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Well, we didn't expect him to be able to claim any compensation, did we? Still, it's good to know."

Hermione gave him a small smile, then. "I could make it my first investigative piece for the _Freedom Press_."

Harry looked up. "They are going to continue with the paper? I thought the fire wiped out everything."

"It did, but there have been donations pouring in since his stories began running in the _Prophet_. I guess there are still people out there who believe we need papers like the _Freedom Press_."

'That's great!" He was pleased for Hermione and he saw she was as pleased as punch too. It was good to be reminded that there were many, many decent wizards and that not everyone outside his own circle was tainted with the brush of corruption.

It didn't help solve Draco's problem, though, did it? His stomach flipped again at the thought of not being able to save him. Hermione must have noticed the fleeting look on his face and she placed a hand on his arm. "Don't give up yet," she said warmly.

"That's exactly what I told Draco last night," Harry replied, smiling weakly. Last night had been another turning point in this relationship they were in. Harry didn't think he'd ever felt so _connected_ to another human being as he had when looking deep into Draco's eyes, watching him come undone. It was extremely intimate; such a personal thing to see that he felt honoured just to have witnessed it, let alone caused it.

"Do you think if we told Sully about all this, that it would help?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "I've been thinking about that myself. Just in case things go badly tomorrow."

She stood up. "Well, he's downstairs waiting. Come down and we can tell him," she replied.

When she left, Harry dressed quickly and followed her, still worrying about the future and wanting to get to Draco quickly so they could spend the day searching.

.o0o.

Sully was waiting in the kitchen, basically surrounded by Weasleys on all sides, when Harry arrived. He had to laugh; if Sully hadn't been welcomed he might have been rather intimidated being hemmed in by several redheaded Weasley boys. As it was, Sully was updating them all on the situation regarding the fire at the newspaper offices, and all the Weasleys and Hermione, who was busy dishing up a plate of scrambled eggs, were listening intently.

"Kingsley reports that it appears to have been a couple of kids. Neighbours saw some kids running down the street less than an hour before the alarm was raised. I keep thinking that it's too much of a coincidence that just as this series starts, the offices get attacked randomly."

"Bloody ratbags," George said.

"They could have been put up to it," Harry added as he sat down.

"That's true," Hermione agreed, placing the scrambled eggs in front of Harry. "Did the neighbours see enough to be able to identify the kids?"

Sully shook his head. "No, it was dark. They'll keep investigating, of course, but I doubt any more will come of it. I somehow doubt that a fire in the offices of a newspaper that's trying to expose the Ministry would be high up on their list of priorities."

"I think you underestimate Kingsley," Harry said. "He's with us on this issue and, by association, you as well, and if he says he'll find who did it then you can be sure that he will."

"I'll take your word for it, Harry, I only know the man through his official biography."

"Well, we've worked with him before and he's a good bloke." Fred joined the conversation.

"If a bit stodgy." George added.

"He could do with a night out on the town occasionally." Fred agreed.

"Perhaps we should do something about that, Fred," George said, grinning at his twin.

"Perhaps we should," Fred replied and they looked at each other in perfect understanding but no one else in the room had any idea what they were talking about. It was sometimes like watching a tennis match with those two. Made Harry's head spin.

"Anyway, I also came to ask you about something," Sully interrupted the twins. "The _Prophet_ has offered me a full time position as their political correspondent." He sat back to let the news sink in.

Harry was happy for him until he realised that Sully might have a philosophical reason for not joining the large newspaper.

"That's great," Ron exclaimed, though he looked at Hermione who had frozen.

"There's no need to worry about your job, Hermione, there is still a need for the type of paper the _Freedom Press_ is. And I'm not even sure I want to take the job, yet."

"Why wouldn't you?" Ron asked.

"It feels like selling out, to be honest. We cover the stories that no one else will, the controversial ones of corruption and cover-ups. And sometimes we make a difference. I'm worried that I'll lose that edge."

"You will if you join a tabloid like the _Prophet_," Hermione snapped.

"They've given me carte blanche to write what I want. No restrictions. I wouldn't even be considering this had they not. I'm not a lackey they can pay off with a fancy job to keep my mouth shut."

Hermione subsided. "Damn, I was looking forward to working with you, learning the ropes and things."

"Well, I haven't made a decision, yet. Besides we can still work together."

"You'd be mad not to take it," Harry said. "You'll reach a much larger audience through the _Prophet_."

"Harry's right," Hermione added, finally relenting as she sat down. "You can do much more good from inside the system than working on the fringes."

"I'll think about it. The _Freedom Press_ has been such a big part of my life for so long now, I'm not at all sure I want to leave."

"And you don't know if their promises are all lip service in any case," George said.

"They might be on the Ministry's pay roll," said Fred.

"All true." Sully nodded.

"If that's the case you can always leave and go back to the _Freedom Press_," Ron pointed out.

"I have a story for you," Harry said suddenly, catching Ron and the twins' eyes at the news. He nodded in confirmation and saw the wheels turning in Ron's mind before he nodded in agreement.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do, Harry?" Hermione asked.

He looked into her soft brown eyes and saw the concern there, but he nodded decisively. "I think we need to. If only as a precaution in case things go wrong tomorrow. His story needs to be told, Hermione. One way or another the story will come out tomorrow anyway – or parts of it – and I think, if the worst happens," Harry's chest tightened at the thought, "I'd – I'd still like people to know about what he did for the Order. Snape, too."

Sully's attention had been riveted on Harry as soon as he'd said he had a story and Harry turned back to him after Hermione nodded in agreement. "I'd need your word that if I ask you not to publish parts of this story then you'll do as I ask."

"I'm not sure--"

"Without it, you get half the story tomorrow at a Death Eater trial, along with every other reporter there," Harry countered.

Sully debated internally for a while, Harry could see the conflict – then he sighed and nodded his head. "All right, you have my word. You did me a favour on the _Veritaserum_ story and that worked out well, so I'm inclined to trust you on this one, too." He put out his hand for Harry to shake, which he did.

And then he settled back to tell Sully the story of the Horcruxes, the search for them, receiving the spell from Snape that would finally kill Voldemort and the role Draco had played in searching for it. He mentioned nothing about what Draco had endured while being held and punished by Voldemort, but he did mention that they were searching for proof that would help Draco.

.o0o.

When he finally reached the cell, Draco was pacing the small room, irritably.

"Where have you been, Potter? It's my last day, probably on this earth, and you have to be late!"

"I'm sorry, had a bi—."

"I need to keep searching for the diary. You're the one who got me all worked up about never giving in, and I won't, but I can't fight if I'm in here!"

Harry could see how worked up Draco was, so he stepped closer and pulled him into his arms. "We're going, right now, I promise," he whispered into Draco's ear in what he hoped was a calming voice. But Draco pushed him away, roughly.

"Well, where is the Cloak then?"

Harry caught sight of the fear in Draco's eyes and regretted not leaving Hermione and Ron there with Sully to explain, or at least sending one of them to Draco to take him to Spinner's End so he could continue the search. Now Draco was agitated and annoyed and would be unpleasant company all day if he pushed him too much. Not that he blamed him; the anxiety must be enormous.

To keep the peace he removed the Cloak from his bag, covered Draco with it and led him out of the cell, ignoring his muttered, "It's about bloody time." He couldn't really blame him; Harry understood the dread Draco was feeling at the thought of possibly being permanently brain damaged, or stuck in Azkaban where he'd last a couple of weeks at most. Conditions in the prison were worse than terrible with the returned Dementors being the least of prisoners' problems.

"What rooms are left to search?" Harry asked when they arrived at Spinners End.

"This main room is about all that's left," Draco responded bluntly and moved directly to one wall and began removing books and leafing through them. "You'll have to follow me and cast revealing spells on them all, too."

Harry sighed, readied his wand and prepared mentally for a long, quiet day.

As they searched, Draco flicking through the books and handing them on to Harry who cast revealing spells over them before replacing them back on the shelf, Harry could feel Draco's mood changing and becoming more desperate. It was in his actions; small things that showed his frustration, like yanking the books off the shelves and yelling at them when they voiced a protest. Even the loudest books shut up when faced with Draco's determination. Draco's bad mood was rubbing off on Harry, though, and he knew sooner or later something was going to give.

They'd searched half of one wall of books and the morning was mostly gone before Draco collapsed in a heap on the floor and sobbed.

"I can't do it, Harry. I'm not as strong as you." He buried his head in his hands, all the fight gone out of him. "We're never going to find it."

Harry snapped. "Get up off that pampered arse of yours and keep looking!"

Draco looked up, shocked and pale and Harry could see the first glimpses of anger streaking his irises. "What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me. I've God knows how many people running around _putting their lives on the line for you_, you sorry piece of shit and all you can do is whine about how hard it is," Harry roared.

"Well they're not the ones going to become a fucking vegetable or be confined to Azkaban tomorrow, are they? They don't know how fucking _terrified_ I am of that. So shut your mouth, Potter, before I shut it for you!"

"And they have no reason to believe a word you've said. But they trust me, and for some God only knows reason I trust you, so don't fucking let me down, don't fucking let them down by being a whiny shit who gives up and doesn't appreciate all they've done."

Draco stood and moved to within an inch of Harry, snarling. "Fine, but my arse is _not_ pampered, Potter, and well you know it."

"Right. And you survived that, didn't you? So don't tell me that searching this place for a god damned diary is harder than that!"

Draco looked taken aback at that, and for the longest time he just stared at Harry who felt like he could see every one of Draco's thoughts.

"Arsehole," Draco murmured before grabbing at Harry's shirt and yanking him close, claiming Harry's lips in a bruising kiss. "What are you standing around for, then? Keep looking!" Draco snapped when he pulled back for air and pushed him away. There was a slight lifting at the corners of his mouth though that laughed at the angry tone he'd used.

Harry gave a wry smile and licked his crushed lips. Small price to pay for snapping Draco out of his attack of self-pity.

Hermione dropped in with lunch at some point during the day and then headed back to do some work for Sully, cleaning and sorting out paperwork for the newspaper. She updated them on what the rest of the crew were doing. The twins were still working on finding Coghill. Harry had almost forgotten him in all the worry about finding the diary. They'd come up with a way to track magical signatures and were testing it out by collecting data from the places they knew Coghill had been. They sounded hopeful, Hermione said, but Harry had bigger problems than Coghill. Everyone else was at work, apart from Ron who was helping out at the twins' shop.

But as day turned to evening and then to night, the time drew near for Draco to be back in his cell and they still hadn't found the diary. They'd only managed to search half of the room. Harry promised to stay there all night and search if need be. And he hated that he needed to take Draco back to his cell, but if there was any time that Scrimgeour would decide to check on his prisoner, then the night before the trial would be it. If there was any hope of the trial going their way without the diary, then it would be lost if it was found that Draco was not in his cell.

Draco clung to Harry as they said good night. Harry found himself clutching Draco just as tightly, as if he held on tight enough then he might not have to let go.

"Promise me you'll be there in the morning, Harry. No matter what. Even if you haven't found the diary, promise me. I think I can be brave enough for anything if you're there with me."

Harry's heart expanded with tears, though he forced them back down. "I promise," he replied, choking on the words despite his best effort. His chest felt brittle like it was preparing to fall apart at any moment. He placed soft kisses along Draco's jaw to his lips. "Now you promise me something. Don't fight the _Veritaserum_ tomorrow." He felt Draco stiffen in his arms, felt the clenching jaw under his lips. "I mean it. Arthur will be representing you and we'll both make sure that the Wizengamot only ask relevant questions."

"I-I can't have people know what I did to survive," Draco whispered, pulling back to look at him.

"Have you thought that the other Death Eaters might tell them, anyway?" Harry asked.

Draco shook his head. "I doubt it. In light of what they'll be on trial for, my situation ranks pretty low on the scale of what's important. I am nothing to them. Once they got over the novelty of humiliating a Malfoy, I was relegated to something they enjoyed when allowed to. That's not going to win them any concessions with the Wizengamot is it?"

"All right. So. Fighting it isn't worth the risk, Draco." Harry let his lips drift across soft skin, feeling the tiny hairs stir as they brushed over his mouth. How could he let go?

"I'll try, but I can't promise anything." Draco let out a soft sound as Harry's lips paused over the sensitive place behind his ear.

It was Draco's decision obviously, but Harry couldn't see where keeping a secret like how Draco survived was more important than surviving this with his faculties intact. Live to fight another day and the humiliation would fade, but at least he'd be sane and mobile and _whole_. But it was Draco's choice and he had to respect that, all he could do was try and drive his point home in any way he could.

Harry headed back to Grimmauld Place once he'd finally said a tearful goodnight to Draco. He refused to call it goodbye; there was still time, no matter now little of it there seemed to be left. The twins were in residence, chattering away in the kitchen over hot cocoa, when he arrived.

"Harry! Just the man we want to see," George exclaimed as Harry walked through the door. "Sit down."

Harry did as he was asked, amused by the excitement in George's voice and the look of achievement on his face. Fred poured some more milk from the saucepan into a cup and added the cocoa and sugar, stirring it briskly.

"What have you two done now?" Harry asked.

The light of achievement was reflected in Fred's face, too, and he grinned at Harry. "We finally made that tracking charm work."

"That's great!" Harry replied, impressed.

"The detection charm isn't very strong yet, and only picks up magic used within the last twenty-four hours."

"After that the signature weakens. Until we develop a stronger charm, that's all we have," Fred said.

"But it's better than nothing. If Coghill uses magic, we'll be able to track him, now."

"Thanks, guys," Harry said. "I really appreciate you developing this for me. I feel a lot safer when you two are around."

"Oh, Merlin's saggy drawers, Harry, don't insult us," Fred said, laughing. "We'll have to surprise you with some hitherto unknown…"

"… and maybe untested…"

"… yes, definitely untested, products." Fred finished.

Harry blinked and then laughed. The Weasley twins could always be counted on to make him smile right when he least expected it.

George reached out and dropped what looked like an old fashioned key on the table. "On a more serious note, I assume that you'll be back searching all night if need be?" When Harry nodded, he continued. "This is a Portkey set to take you straight to the Ministry. It should get you right into the Atrium. Dad set it up for you."

"Thanks," Harry replied, picking the key up and placing it in his pocket.

"Don't lose it," George added. "To activate it, just hold on to it and say 'Ministry'."

"Have you thought of just taking off?" Fred asked seemingly from out of nowhere.

Harry blinked and looked at him. They'd both gone rather still and had uncharacteristically sober looks on their faces. At first he wondered if they'd been joking, but one look at those faces made him admit that they were quite clearly serious.

"No, not seriously," Harry replied warily, unsure of where this was going. "Draco said he didn't want to live his life always looking over his shoulder. Why are you asking?"

The twins looked at each other and then back at Harry. "We just thought that you might be…"

"…thinking about it if things went badly and…"

"…we want you to know that if you do decide to do that…"

"…then you can count on us to help out."

Harry was quite moved. It took him several moments to collect himself before he could reply. "Thanks, guys, I'll keep that in mind." Not that he had any plans to run away. Draco was right. It would be no life living on the run all the time and always wondering when you were going to be caught. As a last, desperate option though…Worried, Harry decided to not rule it out completely.

Several other people came through the door then, interrupting them. Fred leant in and whispered to Harry, "By your bedroom door there's a bag packed with goodies from the shop you might need if you do take off."

"Oi! Is that hot chocolate?" Ron asked, dropping into a seat beside George.

"It is, little brother," he replied.

"Where's mine, then?"

"You will have to make your own, lazy git."

"Lazy git, my arse," Ron complained, good-naturedly. "I've been working hard all day and I have to go and help Harry search for this damned diary for lover boy Ferret Malfoy and I don't even rate a cup of hot chocolate."

"Get over yourself, Ronniekins, because that's about the size of it." Fred leaned across the table and cuffed Ron across the back of the head. Disgruntled, and mumbling under his breath, Ron rose and made his own hot chocolate, leaving Harry to ruminate over the twins' proposal while greeting the others that were now making the kitchen appear to be a small room indeed.

There wasn't really much news since Harry had spoken to Hermione earlier. She'd been helping Sully confirm what they could of Draco's story – which wasn't much. Just background stuff, Hermione said. Everyone tried to keep cheerful and they seemed optimistic on several of the issues they were researching or trying to deal with, and Harry knew that their top priority wasn't Draco, though he did appreciate their help. The group had already grown beyond helping Draco.

Arthur was ready to represent Draco the next day, Kinglsey had assured Harry that his Aurors would make sure Draco was treated decently, fed and showered and given clean clothes before his trial, the twins had promised to keep working on improving the tracking charm and everyone else promised to be at the court the next day as support.

.o0o.

Soon thereafter, he was back at Spinners End with Hermione and Ron, searching for the blasted diary again. Harry was determined not to give up until they'd searched everywhere in this horrid house.

With only half the shelves left to search through, and three of them with wands to do it, it did seem to go faster, but Ron had a habit of tossing the searched through books into a pile on the floor instead of packing them away. He said it was quicker that way; Harry doubted it and Hermione frowned at the treatment of the books, but if Ron thought it was helping him, then he wasn't going to argue; he was just grateful that his best mate was here supporting him.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said.

"What for, mate?"

"I never had the chance to thank you for being so great about this whole Draco thing."

Ross tossed another book onto the floor in disgust as it had burped at him. "No worries, Harry. Have to admit that it's a bit odd you liking Malfoy and all, and I still don't trust him completely, but I do trust you and so…" He sighed. "As long as I don't have to call him _Draco,_ or treat him as my best mate, then I reckon I can handle anything."

Harry grinned. "You're a good bloke, Ron Weasley, and I can see why Hermione loves you so much."

That made both of them blush and Hermione stepped over a pile of books to hug Ron tightly. "He's right you know, you are a good bloke and I am really proud to be your girlfriend."

Ron's face went beetroot red, and he gave Hermione a playful, gentle push away in embarrassment. Unfortunately it caught Hermione off balance. She stumbled over the pile of books and grabbed onto Ron's robes, pulling both herself and Ron back into the shelves knocking several rows of books on to the floor.

"Are you both all right?" Harry asked, concerned. Some of those books could get vicious and bite.

"Yes, we're fine," Hermione replied, whacking Ron on the arm. "Learn how to take a compliment, Ronald," she said huffily. "Those poor books," she finished, leaning down to pick them up.

"Poor books? I've been clocked on the head by biting parchment and all you can think of is the books?"

"Hush up, Ronald, and put them back on the shelf. We don't want to get them confused with the _other_ pile of books on the floor that we've already searched through."

"Yes, your Majesty," Ron said gruffly, taking the books from her and shoving them back on the shelf.

Harry was watching bemused at their bickering.

As Ron pushed the books back onto the shelf, a strange thing happened. Harry saw it but didn't quite realise what it was. There was a clicking noise when the books hit the back of the shelf and then a section of the wall began to slide away, revealing a small brown wooden door with an old fashioned handle and keyhole.

"Ron!" Harry cried out. "Look!" He pointed to the door.

They turned and looked where Harry was pointing. "Harry! I think it's a safe," Hermione squealed, obviously excited. "If we can get this open it might hold the diary."

She drew her wand and aimed several spells at it, none of which worked, the door remaining steadfastly closed.

"Well done, Ron," Harry said, pleased and excited that finally they might have what they came for. He moved over to stand behind his mate and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I don't ever want to hear anyone call me clumsy ever again," Ron growled, but Harry could see he was as excited as both he and Hermione were.

"Mate, if this is what we're looking for, then I'll take great pleasure in buying you dinner at that all you can eat Muggle restaurant in London."

Ron's eyes lit up. "You sure? I can eat a lot of food."

"I know. That's why I chose a fixed price place," Harry said laughing, almost giddy with anticipation. "One price, eat as much as you like."

"Cheapskate," Ron grouched back. But he was smiling.

"If you two can stop thinking about your stomachs for a moment, you might notice that we don't even know if the diary is in there and _unless we can open the safe_, we never will."

"Right." They both looked shamefaced.

"Well, do you know any more spells that we could use?" she asked exasperated.

"Hermione, you're the spell expert. If you don't know any more then we don't either," Ron said, pushing his hands through his hair.

Harry refused to give in, though. "Hermione, how about you start looking around here for spell books, there are bound to be some. Ron why don't you head back and see if you can get into the Library at Hogwarts and I'll search around here for a key. Maybe he did things the old fashioned way with a key."

Ron came over and shook Harry's hand. "We're so close now, we'll find a way. I'll let you know through the communication thingy if I find anything."

"Good. Thanks, Ron."

When Ron left, the quiet was only disturbed by Hermione busily flicking through pages and moving books around, interspersed with annoyed little sighs when another book turned out to be useless.

Harry stood there for a while wracking his brain to see if he could think of any place in this house he'd seen a key of any sort. Nothing stood out, but he headed upstairs to start looking in desk drawers in the study. He also needed to contact Draco. He wasn't sure that he wouldn't be just getting Draco's hopes up too high; they didn't even know if the diary was in there or not. But he did need to let him know. It might make his night easier.

"Draco?" Harry called into his wrist and took a turn into the bedroom to lie on the bed while they talked.

"Harry?" Draco's voice seemed so far away and Harry suddenly felt very lonely.

"It's me," he said.

"It's good to hear your voice. It's very lonely here, tonight." There was a kind of bleak sadness to Draco's voice. "I miss you," Draco whispered. "Especially tonight."

"It's late. Why aren't you sleeping?"

It was a bit of a silly question, really. "Worried about tomorrow. I wish you were here for my last night."

"We'll have lots of nights together."

"I wish I could believe you."

"I have some news. We found a safe behind a heap of books."

"You're kidding?"

"No, I'm not. Don't get your hopes up too high; we don't know if the diary is in there, yet. First we have to find a way to open it. We've tried all the spells we know. Ron has gone to see if he can get into the Library at Hogwarts to find a spell that might open it and Hermione is looking through the books downstairs."

"But there's a chance, right?'

"A really good chance, Draco. We'll be staying here as long as it takes to get that damned safe open."

"Well, I think that's a bit more important than spending the night with me. I'll try not to pin all my hopes on it but I can hope, can't I?"

Harry felt desolate at not being able to bring him better news. The news was better than nothing, but it still wasn't unequivocal good news.

"You can hope, yes. I'll contact you as soon as we find anything. You try and get some sleep. You don't want to face the Wizengamot tomorrow with bags under your eyes, do you?"

Harry heard a soft chuckle. "I guess I'll just have to settle for meeting you in my dreams, then. Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Draco," he said and turned the communicator off, sighing. He rolled over and sat up, catching the picture of his mother smiling at him again.

"I wish you could help me find the key," he said wistfully. His mum just shrugged and smiled at him with familiar eyes.

"The key is right under your nose, Potter, if you'd only open your eyes and see. You have your mother's eyes, did you know?"

The words in his dream came to the forefront of his mind, unbidden, although obviously triggered by recognising the familiar eyes. It couldn't possibly be…

Harry picked up the frame and turned it over. It appeared to be a simple frame, clips on either side holding the picture in behind the backing. Breath held and hope sharpening its claws in his chest, he carefully removed the backing to reveal nothing but the back of the photo.

He exhaled as disappointment flooded through him. "Bloody damn you, Snape!" he growled.

_I think I always knew it would be you that found it._

Harry jumped back, stunned at the voice of his old Professor coming out of thin air. He looked around for some sort of ghost, but the room was empty.

"What do you me –"

_Oh, don't worry I am no ghost. I just charmed the frame to respond to specific voices. In your case, cursing me. I always thought it would be you._

"But what…?"

_If you are looking for the key to the safe, and if you have removed the backing on the frame to look for it, then I confess to having underestimated you._

"If you can give me the k—"

_I'm positive that knowing your idiotic Gryffindor nature, then you are sitting on the bed spluttering and trying to ask me questions. Which I cannot answer, you fool._

Harry shut up after that. Habit he guessed, but when Snape started calling him names, he knew it was best just not to respond. He had no idea how he'd worked the frame – something for Hermione to study later – but he did know that he was going to get the key to that safe. Eventually.

_There are things in that safe that are very personal to me and I would appreciate it if you did not make them public knowledge, Potter. Allow me some dignity in my death. But if you are on some fool Gryffindor mission to prove me innocent, then perhaps I shall assist you._

There could have been countless reasons for Harry discovering this frame, not just the pursuit of a way to clear Snape's name. Still, Harry supposed that would have seemed the most logical to Snape at the time.

_The lock is a decoy. All it will take for you to open the safe is to tell it your name. It's been keyed to only open for certain people. I think even you can handle something that simple, Potter._

Not waiting for Snape to finish speaking, Harry replaced the backing on the picture and clutched it to his chest. He'd be taking this picture with him when he left _with the diary!_ Harry could barely even believe it himself. Draco was going to be so happy and relieved and maybe Harry would see those playful lights in his eyes again soon.

Hermione! He needed to tell Hermione about this and open the safe and find this evidence. He stood and was about to leave the room, when Snape's voice halted him.

_Potter, if it turns out by some miracle Draco is still alive after the war, I would ask one favour of you, much as it pains me to do so. Look after him._

Harry was shocked at the gentle tone in the man's voice, though he shouldn't be. Draco had told him how Snape had tried to care for him as best as circumstances would allow. Even though he knew Snape could not see or hear him, Harry nodded.

Then he charged downstairs taking the steps three at a time, calling Hermione's name.

"I found it!" he yelled.

She was still immersed in several books all at once and Harry had to wonder how she retained any of the knowledge.

"Found what?" Hermione replied, looking up, frazzled from her search.

"The key!" His excitement jumped at the grin on Hermione's face.

"Where was it?"

"It was under the picture of my mum the whole time. Snape put some weird voice recognition charm on it and it played this whole speech by him. Apparently it's keyed to me and a few other people and all I have to do is state my name."

"Well, go on then! Did he say what was in the safe?"

"Stuff that will clear him. He obviously didn't know why I was here looking for it, but if it will clear him, it will clear Draco as well, hopefully. Besides, he asked me to look after Draco if he made it through the war so surely the diary would clear him, too, right?"

"Open it up and find out!" Hermione was as excited as Harry was.

Harry moved to stand in front of the safe and stated clearly "Harry James Potter."

For a moment nothing happened and then there was a clicking noise, followed by the handle on the safe door turning and a soft grinding noise before the door swung open to reveal the contents. When Harry peered in, it appeared that there were several leather bound diaries and three boxes of small vials filled with a cloudy mist that Harry recognised immediately as memories.

"Hermione, he left all his memories as well. These will add even more weight to the evidence."

"Oh, Harry, this is wonderful. Of course Snape would have left these if he was somehow hoping to one day be exonerated."

"If he were here, I might even kiss the greasy old bastard," Harry said, grinning.

There was a flash of red light beside him and a loud thump. From the corner of his eye he saw Hermione falling to the ground. Instinct had him pushing the door to the safe closed as he turned and flicked his wand into his hand. But he was too late, and saw nothing through the burst of red light heading towards him. He barely had time to hope Hermione was all right before the darkness curled around his vision and he lost consciousness.


	19. Issues of Love

Disclaimer: Not Mine

* * *

Author's Note: Just to let you know there WILL BE AN EPILOGUE just to round things off neatly. And, Oooh, look, no character death!!! Hahahahaha.

But, wow, I can still hardly believe that it's done. (Apart from the epilogue) Huge thanks to my beta **nocturnali** who always makes her services available to me and who does an exemplary job - until I play around with it after and wreck her good work sometimes, lol. *smooshes Ali*

Thanks to everyone who has followed this story, it's been three and a half years in the writing and is waaaaaaaaaaay AU now (Fred is alive!).

The ending this story has is how it was always going to end - in fact, I saw this ending before I saw most of the rest of the story. I hope you're not disappointed in it, I think it's terribly sweet.

Also...over the years this has taken to write I've noticed a change in my style. Nothing huge, but a lot of the amateurish, awkward phrasing has disappeared from my writing, although it does tend to sneak back in there occasionally, so I apologise to those of you starting to read from the beginning. I may at some point go back and polish things up.

Anyway, enjoy, my lovelies.

jamie

xxxxx

* * *

Issues of love.

Chapter 19.

Consciousness brought with it a headache that threatened to split his head in two and aching shoulders from where his arms had been pulled roughly behind him and bound. For several moments it was all Harry could do to stay conscious and more than once his eyes fluttered to the back of his head making everything hazy. It was only Hermione's insistent voice harshly whispering, begging him to wake up that stopped him passing out altogether. That and the way she was digging her nails into his arm. Harry was sure he could feel the wetness of blood dribbling down the palm of one hand.

"Harry! Wake up!" Hermione was still urging him.

"I am. Shit," he said, groaning as he tried to free his wrists. The last thing he remembered was the door to the safe shutting as the red light of the curse came hurtling towards him. Fuck. How long had he been out? Who had cursed them? "What happened?" he asked as he continued to struggle.

"Coghill, who else?" Hermione replied, sounding disgusted. "Keep the noise down, though or he'll hear and come back."

Harry looked around, finding that they weren't in Snape's house as he'd thought. The room they were in was furnished like something out of the charity bin at the Salvation Army. Tattered square armchairs squatted on either end of an equally tattered grey couch. Apart from a dusty table that held a small television, there was nothing else in the room. He and Hermione had been tied back to back in the middle of the room, left sitting on threadbare carpet that looked like only the dust was holding it together.

"Do you have any idea where we are?" he asked. Surely Coghill wasn't down on his luck so much that he'd be living like this? Aurors earned a decent wage as far as he knew and Coghill hadn't been out of work long enough to have fallen this far.

"No, I don't."

"How long have I been out?"

"I have no idea." She sounded exasperated.

"Well, what do you know?" he bit out, trying not to lose his temper since it was hardly Hermione's fault.

"Only that I came to just as Fred and George Apparated into Snape's, obviously having tracked his magic. But Coghill grabbed us and the next thing I know, we're here. I'm sure they'll sound the alert but, unless we can escape, we might be here too long and miss Draco's court hearing."

"Fuck and damn it all to bloody hell," Harry exploded, struggling with the bindings on his wrists again. Futilely as it turned out. Harry had always known that Coghill was a competent Auror; these ropes would be well tied.

"Shit, Hermione."

"I know, Harry, I know." She shifted, getting more comfortable Harry assumed. "We need a plan."

"Like what?"

"Well if we can get him back in here and make him do magic again, maybe this time the twins could catch him unprepared."

Harry thought about it for a moment. It seemed as good a plan as any. He really didn't think Coghill would respond well to a polite request to let him go and take the memories and diary to Draco's trial and then promise he'd come back and willingly submit to whatever torture Coghill had in mind. He didn't think Coghill would respond well to demands in that vein either.

He also didn't think Coghill would be dumb enough to release them from their bonds.

Hermione's plan seemed to make the best sense. He nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "Do you have any idea what the time is?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, but it must be just nearing dawn as I could hear some birds before."

"We've been out a while, then."

Harry was worried about Draco waking and getting ready for his trial and then finding out that Harry had been kidnapped. He'd worry about Hermione, too, but Harry was the one he'd worry about most. And fret over.

And that would only make him more anxious and stressed and less likely to make a decision to not fight the _Veritaserum._ Harry simply had to escape and if that meant goading Coghill into hexing him then so be it. He'd just have to hope it wasn't too bad and that Fred and George could fix him up in time to dash back to Snape's, collect the diary and memories and make it to the court in time.

Wait, what was he thinking about? The Portkey! If by some chance Coghill had left it thinking it was some innocuous key… "Hermione, can you reach into my back pocket and see if the Portkey is still there?"

He felt her slump behind him. "It's not. I tried that earlier, before you came around."

"Shit!" Harry's headache that had reduced itself to a mere thumping now returned in force, making him wince. "Let's get this over with, then." Time was ticking away and he was getting frustrated.

"Harry, wait, do you think we could push against each other and stand that way? Maybe we can then find something to cut these ropes with."

"Good thinking," Harry replied, kicking himself mentally for not thinking straight. Lucky one of them still had working brain cells.

Struggling to stand was no fun as too often Harry's extra weight forced Hermione to slip back to the floor. Eventually, they timed it right and got to their feet, Harry feeling jubilant that at least one thing had gone their way.

"Do you think we could break the window and use the glass to cut the ropes free?"

"What with?" Hermione replied.

"I'll break the bloody thing with my -"

Harry was interrupted by the sound of the handle turning. Before they could do anything the door was flung open and the bulky form of Coghill stepped through.

"Ah," he said, sneering as he took in their state. "The bloody wonder boy has chosen to join us. You really must have a weak head, Potter. I barely used any strength in that hex and you've been out longer than anyone I've ever used that on before. How the fuck did you manage to kill You-Know-Who?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Do you know how many times I've had to listen to scum reading me lists of what's wrong with me? Kind of like water off a duck's back now because I don't give a shit what you think." Harry knew he was being belligerent; he had to be. He needed Coghill to use magic.

Coghill's normally ruddy face was looking pale and tired, a sure sign of the stress he'd been under recently. If he hadn't been the one to take his frustrations out on Draco and if he hadn't been the one to make all the recent attempts on Harry's life, Harry might even have felt sorry for him. As it was, all he felt was relief. A tired Coghill was likely to make more mistakes than one who was well rested. "I used to think you were a good, solid Auror, Coghill."

Harry would have continued but the venom in Coghill's stare stopped him long enough for Coghill to spit his piece. "I _was_ a good Auror. Until you decided that the blond was a decent piece of arse and put your dick before the people who helped you bring that maniac down."

"Good Aurors don't beat their prisoners to a bloody pulp just for the fun of it," Harry snapped back. He was going to ignore the jibe Coghill made about Harry thinking with his dick, because that was not how it had been. Not at all.

"He was nothing! Just some useless twat with a Dark Mark on his arm and a family that was darker than any of the rest of 'em. What did it matter if he earned himself a few extra bruises and scars? After what they did…" Coghill moved closer to them, waving his wand at Harry menacingly. Hermione cringed away from him and they stepped back towards the wall, Harry trying to push Hermione behind him.

He felt her hand momentarily squeeze his and barely heard her whispered 'good luck', but squeezed back as best he could.

"What did he do specifically, Coghill?" Harry taunted. "Parade around, flashing his Dark Mark, pretending to be proud of it?"

"It doesn't matter anymore, Potter, because in less than an hour from now your little boyfriend will be spending the rest of his life in Azkaban where he belongs."

"Not if I have any say in it." Harry growled trying to free his wrists again. Damn, goading Coghill with Draco wasn't getting him anywhere. And time was running out.

Coghill threw back his head and laughed. "You think you will have any say in it? You're tied up here, with nowhere to go and no way of escaping. It's been a long time coming, Potter, but I can finally give you what you deserve."

Harry was growing tired of these old clichés Coghill was throwing out. It felt like a badly scripted movie. The bad guy kidnaps the hero – and as much as he hated it, that was his slated role in this story – rambles on about revenge and how the hero will finally get his comeuppance, tells the hero exactly how he managed to carry out his evil plan and then lets the hero escape just in the nick of time to save the girl – er, Draco.

"Yeah, yeah, heard all that before, from someone I was a lot more scared of than you." Harry yawned, hoping that might egg Coghill on a little. "I doubt you could even hurt me."

That didn't seem to faze Coghill. "Oh, I will hurt you, but not yet. I want to put the radio on to listen to the hearing of that Malfoy scum and I want to see the look on your face when he is convicted. You know what they'll do to pretty things like that in Azkaban."

"No!" gasped Hermione from behind him. "Please, you have to let us go. Draco is innocent. He helped win the war; he didn't fight for the other side. Please…"

"Hermione," Harry warned. "This isn't about Draco anymore, it's about me seeing to the end of his career. He wants revenge on me, not Draco."

"Listen to him, Miss. I'm just sorry you had to be caught up in this. Never had a bad word to say about you. You got your head screwed on right most of the time."

"So, why not let her go, huh? She hasn't done anything to deserve this."

"It's really too bad, Miss," Coghill continued. "There are always innocent victims in war."

He really sounded like he believed they were at war, Harry thought incredulously. It was the first time he'd actually considered that Coghill might just have some mental illness. It was doubly important that he escape now; there was no way he could let Hermione be killed. No way.

"You, sir, are an arse," Hermione spat. A dignified spit to be sure, but scathing all the same.

This wasn't getting them anywhere and the time was running out quickly. Draco would be getting frantic that Harry wasn't there. So would everyone else and he'd bet that no one would remember to tell Draco he'd been kidnapped. He had to think of something!

"Tell us how you found us, then," he said to give him some time to think.

"Heard one of your lot talking over them communication things you had in your watch. Them twins are pretty clever. Figured them for the smarts for that."

Damn they did need to watch security, then. Still, unless he managed to get them all out of this, there would be no need for security, would there?

"Pity you can't do a wandless Patronus, Harry," Hermione whispered from behind him. "Then it could lead them here.

"I know," Harry breathed from the side of his mouth.

Coghill glared at them and dragged them both back to the middle of the room and forced them to the floor once more. Then left the room. Harry wondered if he was getting the radio, as there didn't seem to be one in the room already.

"Do you think that if I did some other form of wandless magic they might be able to trace that?" Harry asked, the thought having just jumped into his head and giving him hope.

"If they're looking for it, which I suspect they will be, and you could do something stronger than an _Accio_."

"Damn." Nothing was working!

Coghill returned and Harry could see that he hadn't been collecting the radio. He had in fact been making himself some food. Sandwiches were piled high on a plate which was being carried in one hand while there was a bottle of Butterbeer in the other. As Coghill stepped towards the couch, he gave Harry a swift kick to the ribs. Harry grunted at the unexpected attack, pain blossoming along several ribs.

Breathing heavily, he watched Coghill place his sandwiches on the table and then lower his large frame onto the couch. The man took a long swig at his Butterbeer and then let out a revolting squelchy burp as he took out his wand and waved it at what Harry thought was a television. Apparently, it was a wizarding radio transfigured to look like a television.

After that, things happened pretty quickly. Several loud cracks were heard and the room was quickly filled with armed people. Coghill made an attempt to fight back by raising his wand, but that was about as far as he got before being overpowered by one of the twins launching himself at Coghill. He got in the way of the rest of them firing off their own spells, but it made no difference. George, as it turned out to be, was able to wrest Coghill's wand away from him. From there it was an easy job to magically bind him.

Almost before Harry knew it his hands were freed and he could move.

"Sorry that took so long, Harry," Fred said apologetically.

"We missed him the first time," George added, handing Harry his wand.

"We will need to make some modifications to the spell," Fred continued.

"Don't worry about that now," Harry said. "There'll be time for all this later. Hermione, are you all right?" He looked to where Hermione was rubbing her wrists, still sitting on the floor.

"Yes, Harry, I'm fine. You go and I'll explain. Meet you at the court. Hurry!"

He barely noticed that Bill was there as were Remus and Tonks, though he gave them a brief smile as he Apparated back to Snape's.

.o0o.

When Harry arrived back at Snape's, he'd thought the only thing he'd have to do was to use his voice to open the safe again. He hadn't realised that the safe had disappeared after he'd shut it. Harry groaned; he had no time for this!

He wracked his brain trying to remember exactly how they'd found the safe. Hadn't some books triggered some sort of catch? But where? Which books? Could he use a revealing spell to show the safe? Or would he need to recreate it exactly? Distractedly he ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

Randomly he began to pick up books and shove them back on the shelves, until he realised if he used his wand it might go faster. It did, but not fast enough and Harry was beginning to panic. What if he didn't find it again in time? Should he go chasing after Hermione and get her input? She would remember…

Just as he had resigned himself to the fact that he'd have to do just that, he heard the click in the wall and saw the little door slide open. The small brown door looked exactly the same with its fake lock and handle. "Oh, thank you God," he breathed in relief. "Harry James Potter," he called out loudly, giving a huge sigh when the door opened. He'd not truly feel safe until Draco was free and this whole nightmare behind him, but this at least was hope.

Harry stripped off his jumper, wrapped the vials of memories carefully in it and slid the diaries into his shirt for safety. Wishing he'd stopped long enough to find the Portkey Coghill had removed, he Apparated directly to Grimmauld Place and then stepped straight through the Floo to the Ministry.

In all the years that Harry had known about his fame, he'd never wanted to hex any of the well wishers for wanting to come and say hello or smile at him and shake his hand.

Until now.

When he stepped from the Floo, it only took one person to recognise him, loudly. The next thing Harry knew, he was surrounded. A sea of faces, smiling, with mouths that were working, saying things and making noises that Harry could not understand. No matter how much he protested and tried to make his way through them, they would not let him move.

He didn't want to hurt them but he had to do something!

Finally, in exasperation, he took his wand and raised it over his head calling out a spell that created a spray of fireworks and sparks.

"Will you all just STOP?" he shouted above the quieting din. This made them all shut up. "Please let me pass. It's a matter of life and death and if I don't get to the court immediately someone might die. Please?"

He must have sounded desperate, because they all looked shamefaced and moved aside.

"You go, young 'arry," someone called as he passed.

"You an 'ero, you is," someone else, a man with no teeth and a smile wide enough to be pinned at his ears, said. "Savin' someone again?"

"Something like that, yeah," Harry said as he quickened his pace to move past them all.

Once free, he ran to the lift, thanking whatever Gods there were that one was waiting for him. He ducked into it and punched the button for the lower level where the trial was being held. He prayed he was on time.

The hallway from the lift to the court room was strangely silent and menacing-looking and as Harry set off at a run he had the oddest feeling that it was like in a dream where you ran and ran but the faster you tried to run the slower you went. He told himself just to put his head down and run, which he did and shortly he found himself at the door and flinging it open.

Harry thought his heart might stop when he saw the scene inside the courtroom. Draco was chained to the seat in the middle of the room; he'd expected that, having seen the way that prisoners were treated in this room. He didn't even notice that there didn't seem to be an empty seat in the many rows of spectator seats.

The only thing he saw was Draco and the panicked look in his eyes. That and the court official holding his chin up in order to administer the three drops of _Veristaserum_.

"No!" Harry cried out, rushing towards Draco. From the corner of his eye he saw Arthur move forward and so he pressed his bundle of memories into his arms and yanked the diaries from his shirt as he ran past.

He was too late, though. Even as Draco heard Harry's voice and tried to move his head, the clear liquid dripped onto his tongue.

Harry ignored the voices of the Chief of the Wizengamot berating him for interrupting the session and Arthur for requesting some leniency as Harry had produced some evidence of Draco's innocence. All Harry could concentrate on was ensuring that Draco didn't fight the _Veritaserum_.

He pushed the official aside and grabbed Draco's face between his hands.

"Harry," Draco said. "I thought you weren't coming, and then…" he gulped, "and then I thought maybe you hated me and you didn't want to save me."

"Draco, stop," Harry insisted. "I just got caught up that's all. I promised to be here and I am here. I have the diaries, Draco, I have them."

Draco's eyes lit up for a second, and then went flat once more.

"Draco!" Harry shook him and then rested his forehead on Draco's. "Don't fight it." He was aware he was pleading but he didn't care who heard or saw. The only important thing was ensuring Draco came through this unscathed. "Please, don't fight it."

"Harry?" Draco's voice was wavering and afraid.

"I'm here," Harry replied softly, pressing his lips to Draco's forehead. "I'm here and I won't let them ask you anything you don't want to answer, I promise."

"Promise?"

Harry nodded. "I promise. Just please don't fight it."

"I don't know, Harry." Draco's voice dropped until it was barely audible.

"Draco, you can do it. Just think of what our future will be like when this is all over. We can be together properly."

"You'd still want that? After all I put you through?"

"Of course. Did you think I was just feeling pity for you all along?"

"I don't know. You could have been using it as a form of revenge once you knew how I felt about you."

"How do you feel about me?" Harry had to ask. He thought he knew but he had to ask. It might give him some indication as to how hard Draco was fighting the _Veritaserum_.

"Silly Harry." Draco smiled. "I love you."

"That's what I want to hear," Harry said, heart singing. He smiled and kissed Draco's lips. "Just don't fight it and you'll be fine, I promise."

Draco held his gaze for a long time before he blinked. "Harry?"

"Yes, Draco?"

"When all this is over, when I am back in my right mind, will you kiss me awake like Sleeping Beauty?"

"I will. Always."

Draco smiled and Harry knew everything would be all right.

"My very own Prince Charming."

Harry just smiled. He could be that.


	20. Issues of a future

Disclaimer: Not Mine

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Author's Note: Well, here is the epilogue for your enjoyment. I hope you like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks to everyone for their support with reviews and such I have loved every one of them.

jamie

xxxx

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Issues of a future.

Epilogue

They say that you can never really know a person until you have lived a life in their shoes. Perhaps they're right – whoever 'they' are. I do know one thing, though, and that is, if someone gives you their all - all the time - if they let you see their soul in each word and tender touch and with every breath they take, you can learn to believe you know who they are and you can begin to trust again.

That's what Harry has done for me.

He deserves so much of my respect for insisting that we take things slowly, even after I overcame my reservations. Or thought I had anyway. Once I was free, it felt like so much baggage just dropped away and disappeared, I think I felt healed. And I tested him. Pushed him to consummate our relationship properly. In some way I thought if I could possess him in the most intimate way possible, then he wouldn't leave me behind; wouldn't forget me.

During those few weeks of incarceration I was either living on the edge of death or flying jubilantly, victorious, and all through it he was the one thing I clung to. But he knew that there'd be scars and, whilst I may have been able to hide them, afterwards I don't think I would have been able to sort through my feelings enough to continue loving him. There would have been too many similarities, too many associations between forced sex and sex I'd forced myself to have before I was ready. It would have broken us apart.

He'd always been this larger than life figure – even when I taunted him mercilessly at school there was an overriding grasping quality to it, like I was trying to raise myself to be seen in the sun alongside him. Even though ultimately all I was doing was being a contrast. Light and dark, good and evil. And until sixth year, I never completely saw the chasm of difference between the two. We were kids. Just kids.

We still are kids, though right now, watching Ron and Hermione take their vows, the world agrees we've grown up. Never thought I'd ever see the day when I'd happily attend a Weasley wedding. And be welcomed at it.

Surrounded by Harry's family – they're worming their way into becoming mine, too, - I can watch him in his comfort zone. He's so strong; he stands by Ron, dressed in a gorgeous tuxedo, solid like a rock. He's their rock as much as they are his. Family. That's what it's all about. Being welcomed into the bosom of this one took a lot of getting used to but I have to say it's more rewarding than I could have imagined, even if red hair in my nightmares still gives me the vapours. Harry takes care of me, though, and has slowly but surely integrated me into his life.

Life. What a wondrous word. Believe me, when you think it's gone, you realise how much you didn't get to live it. Given a second chance you grasp it to yourself with every finger and toe, just so nothing slips past you ever again.

After the trial – which seems like a dim memory now, even though it was only a year ago – Harry showed that characteristic bravery and defended me. Although his 'jump in without thinking and then work out how to escape' attitude sometimes caused more problems than there should have been, I never ever doubted that he would stand by me. The press hounded us for weeks, months really. They still take every opportunity to harass him when they catch him in public but at least they're not camped on the doorstep anymore. But Harry steadfastly refused to speak about our relationship. Told them that it was his own business and he deserved some privacy.

After he'd hexed a couple of reporters for insulting me, that is. Oh, come on, they were harmless hexes that only cracked the camera lenses. I love that he was angry enough to stand up for me. He's my hero.

I say that in all sincerity actually, even though it sounds like I was being facetious. I can honestly say he saved my life. I know everyone helped and I think they're all heroes but if you tell any of them I said that I will deny it vehemently and then claim revenge by making good use of one of the twins' new inventions.

Those two are too clever for their own good sometimes but now I've finished the last year of school, they've hired me as a special adviser to check over their products to ensure that they don't cross the line into Dark Arts. So, I feel useful and I am earning my own living. I help out in their workshop, too. There are a lot of hush-hush projects on the go for the new 'corruption-free' Ministry. Kingsley has contacts within the Unspeakables and he is sounding out the viability of a position for me with them. Father would roll over in his grave.

I'm not in a rush though. I am still heady from the brilliance that is Harry. Getting to know him properly and having him wrap himself around me at night to keep me safe is one of the most challenging yet ultimately rewarding experiences of my life. And I say that without a trace of sarcasm.

He wakes me every morning with a kiss, like Sleeping Beauty. He is Prince Charming extraordinaire. He personifies it.

Oh, don't get me wrong, he's not perfect; he farts like an old dog if he eats too much meat. He still leaves his clothes lying about the room like he has a phobia of closets. And combs too, because his hair refuses to budge for one, so I think he just gives up most days and leaves it messy. The shower looks like a whole horde of people have been through it when he's finished; water and wet towels everywhere. When he heads off to Auror training it takes me half an hour to clean up after him. If only he would allow house-elves.

Small price to pay I guess.

We've discussed whether or not to tell my story in the hope that it might help someone else, but I can't do it. That was my private hell. Harry's been in there through a few Pensieve memories I extracted for him and the first thing he did when he returned was to take me in his arms and promise me that nothing would ever hurt me again. Silly, really, when you think about it logically. Something is bound to hurt me sooner or later but, wrapped up in those arms of his, I believe him. I feel safe and cherished and protected.

I love him for more than that, though.

He continued on with his campaign of stopping the forced use of _Veritaserum_ even though, when my brush with it became public knowledge, the fight was almost won. Nothing like being an example, I say. But he pressed on, encouraged the _Prophet_ to keep printing Sully's stories, harassed Scrimgeour and whoever else would listen until the full bench of the Wizengamot agreed to sit and debate the matter. Close run things are a Potter specialty I've learned, but he won with a narrow majority four months after the trial.

We celebrated with a quiet weekend at home.

And by making love for the first time.

Talk about not easing up on the tension. All strung out by the victory we almost stumbled into it, but it felt right, even though my whole body was shaking, trying not to have flashbacks. That night is another story and is so close to my heart that I'll not share. I'm selfish like that. Too many people know too much about our lives as it is.

The vicar is reading out the vows and had this been a couple of years ago it would have made me sick to my stomach, but now…

"To love, honour and cherish for as long as you both shall live…"

Trust Hermione to insist on a Muggle service. Wizards don't generally use that wording but it's really profound. Who knew that they were capable of such depth? It's almost like an Unbreakable vow. I wonder how Ron will cope with those vows when Hermione has spent the last five days on a mission for the _Freedom Press_ and hasn't slept or showered and her frizzy hair is like a bird's nest around her head.

Looking at him, I don't think he cares terribly much. Love really is blind. He'd better find his sight though because I have charged him with looking after my Harry while they are on the job. I want Harry to return home to me each night and look at me the way Ron looks at Hermione.

Harry turns his gaze on me now as if he can hear my thoughts. There's deep affection in his eyes and I know I am glowing under his regard. It sounds really quite sappy but I've learned Harry likes me to be open about my feelings for him.

Of course, if he's making me so sappy that my stomach rolls over in fright, then I lace his pumpkin juice with a laxative. That soon wipes the sappy grin off his face.

But then I miss the grin and feel guilty - not that I'd tell him that - and so I take care of him until he's well enough to punish me. I've discovered that a light spanking is most pleasurable when it's Harry's hand. He caresses my skin as much as reddens it. It's different than…before. It's my choice now.

We still have a long way to go to being healed. Both of us still have nightmares, but there's company for our fright and misery and neither of us would have it any other way. We both rely on each other and trust is a given.

He follows the wedding party out of the chapel and I realise that I missed the rest of the service just thinking about Harry. My Harry. Mine.

As he passes me by, his hand reaches for my face. He leans in and whispers softly against my cheek, "It will be our turn one day."

I think I break the sun with my smile.


End file.
